


Master and Champion

by shadowglove88



Series: Master And... Series [7]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Accidental Voyeurism, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Culturally Encouraged Sexual Deviance, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Succubi & Incubi, Anal, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Ass to Mouth, BAMF Merlin, Barbed Penis, Battle, Beast Mode Sex, Bed Sex, Bedroom Sex, Biting, Blood As Lube, Blood Kink, Blood Magic, Body Modification, Body Worship, Bottom Valiant, Breeding, Breeding Kink, Butt Plugs, Catamites, Chair Sex, Choking, Claiming, Claiming Bites, Claiming sex, Clothed Sex, Cock Bondage, Cock Cages, Cock Rings, Cock Slut, Cock Warming, Come Inflation, Come Slut, Come Slut Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Come as Lube, Comforting Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Coming Untouched, Concubine Training, Continuous Arousal, Court Intrigues, Court Sorcerer Merlin, Creampie, Dark, Dark Arthur, Dark Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Dark Fantasy, Dark Magic, Dark Merlin, Dark Past, Death Threats, Demon Blood, Demon Seed, Demon Sex, Demon/Human Relationships, Demon/Human Sex, Demonic Anatomy, Demonic Merlin, Demons, Desire for Mpreg, Dick-tummy, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dominance, Dominant Bottom, Double Anal Penetration, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Dry Orgasm, Dry Sex, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Everyone Is Gay, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, Extremely Kinky, F/F, False Identity, False Memories, Fantasy Sex, Finger Sucking, Fingers in Mouth, First Time Bottoming, Fivesome - M/M/M/M/M, Flashbacks, Forced Masturbation, Forceful Penetration, Frottage, Fucking, Gangbang, Gay, Gay Breeding, Gay Concubine, Gay Kingdom, Gay Majority, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Gay Society, Grief/Mourning, Grooming, Group Sex, Hand & Finger Kink, Huge Cock Small Opening, Humiliation, Hurts So Good, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Impregnation Fetish, Impregnation Kink, Inappropriate Behavior, Inappropriate Erections, Inhuman Cock, Intergluteal Sex, Kinky, Large Cock, Light Masochism, Literal Inner Demon, Longing, Love Bites, M/M, Magic, Magic Cock, Magic-Users, Magical Tattoos, Male Bonding, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Marathon Sex, Masochism, Master/Pet, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Mate Calling, Mate claiming, Mates, Mating, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Memory Alteration, Memory Magic, Mind Control, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Mind Meld, Mind Rape, Mind Sex, Mindfuck, Moaning, Morning Sex, Morning Wood, Multiple Penetration, Multiple Sex Positions, Negotiations, Nightmares, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Nipple Suckling, Nipples, No Lube, Obedience, Older Man/Younger Man, Older Men/Younger Men, Older Merlin, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Orgy, Outdoor Sex, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Penis Size, Perversion, Pining, Pining Merlin (Merlin), Plot Twists, Possessive Mate, Power Dynamics, Prostate Massage, Prostate Stimulation, Protective Merlin, Public Blow Jobs, Public Claiming, Public Display of Affection, Public Hand Jobs, Public Masturbation, Public Sex, Repressed Memories, Ridges, Rimming, Rivalry, Romantic Soulmates, Rough Sex, Rutting, Sadism, Sadistic Merlin, Scratching, Seeding, Self-Lubrication, Semi-Public Sex, Sevensome - M/M/M/M/M/M/M, Sex, Sex Addiction, Sex Magic, Sex for the sake of feeding, Sexual Dominance, Sexual Memories, Sexual Slavery, Sexually Aggressive Arthur, Shapeshifting, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sleep Groping, Sleep Sex, Sleepy/Unconscious Sex, Somnophilia, Soul Bond, Soul-Searching, Succubi & Incubi, Taunting, Teasing, Teeth, Threatening Merlin, Threats, Threats of Violence, Topping from the Bottom, Transformation, True Form Sex, True Mates, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Unconscious Sex, Underwater Sex, Unrequited Love, Unsafe Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Violence, Visions, Visions of Sex, Voyeurism, War, Water Sex, Younger Arthur, belly bulge, breeding fetish, coming on command, cumflation, dubious consent due to magic, inhuman anatomy, memory manipulation, mentions of marathon sex, nipple sucking, power bottom Arthur, sevensome, sex in a river, sex service, soul connection - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-07-28 13:06:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 88,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16242245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowglove88/pseuds/shadowglove88
Summary: The war has been won and all is well....Right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter contains some Merlin/Valiant... because of... reasons.

 

This might honestly be one of the worst headaches Merlin had ever had in his life. He’d been having them the last couple of days, which was being attributed to the stress of being the in so high a position in court during times such as these, and while Merlin had been scoffing at the advice to take some days off to just rest - or something else that old men did - he was slowly getting more and more tempted to just try it - fie his pride. He’d give it a couple of more days though, and see whether the headache finally passed on its own or whether Merlin would have to admit to his first ever defeat. 

“Come now, Merlin, you are giving _me_ a headache, and the act of giving the reigning monarch a headache should be illegal,” a voice declared from the throne to his left. “Either take the prescribed tonics or take some sort of sleeping draught until it wears off.”

“I thought the Mercian Court was being attacked,” Merlin muttered as he now openly rubbed his temples since he’d been found out. “That, coupled with the stress of my trip back while in such a panicked state, would be _more than_ _enough_ to give me a migraine.”

“Don’t think you’ll get any sympathy from me, you should not have been away from the Court to begin with. And anyway, it’s been _days_ since you came back only to realize it was just a little squabble brought on by the effects of the approaching dark moon,” came the amused, not at all sympathetic voice. “I know you are older than you look, Merlin, but truly this is the first time you’ve acted like an _old man_.”

A huff escaped his lips as he turned to face the throne. “Next time I think your life is in danger I’ll make sure to take my sweet time returning, _My King_.”

Booming laughter erupted from the throne as King Valiant’s whole body shook with his mirth. His crown slipped crookedly onto his head, and he only half-mindedly straightened it while shaking his head. “Now _that_ is treasonous, Merlin!What sort of example are you setting for the rest of the Court?”

“As _if_ anyone is actually paying attention,” Merlin snickered in dark amusement as he cast a glance over those attending court at the moment. The effects of the nearing dark moon were very obvious. All over the large room were groans and moans as the knights and lords who had lovers were buried deep inside of them, some sharing with those who had none, while servants found themselves entertaining the ones without. It had been four years since King Valiant had taken over as Mercia’s king, and one of his first edicts had been to ban women entirely from not only the castle and its grounds, but the capital itself, so even the few courtiers who had not initially been inclined thusly were now more than versed with the pleasures of male bodies. There had been those against the ban when it had been announced, but Valiant was king, and Mercia _had_ nearly fallen due to a woman.

Despite what might seem like a slight against the female gender, King Valiant had recruited the best female warriors in Mercia and commissioned them to find other willing, like-minded women, to them for his own singular purpose. Valiant was, first and foremost, a warrior, and understood the unique strengths women could bring to war. It was why Mercian women were being trained unlike any other time in the history of the kingdom, and once they completed the grueling training regime, they were either sent to guard certain outposts along very specifically chosen sections of Mercia’s borders, or left Mercia as spies as they embedded themselves into the neighboring kingdoms.

King Valiant ruled Mercia like he would an army, and somehow, some way, it had worked for the last couple of years.

“While that is true, do not think the fact that I am versed in battle makes me a fool regarding intrigue,” King Valiant declared with a raised eyebrow and quirk of his lips. “Surely, Merlin, the excuse of using a headache to refrain from sex is a _female_ tactic.” He grinned very filthily. “Or are you merely sulking?”

Merlin held his finger out to King Valiant in a ‘don’t start with me’ sort of way. 

“Ah _huh_ , so there _is_ something upsetting you,” he snickered very unkindly. “What exactly is the matter, Merlin?” He tilted his head. “Are you perhaps on your period?”

“Sometimes, My King, I want to punch you _so hard_ ,” Merlin mumbled loud enough so that only the man would hear him and no one else.

“ _Insubordinate wretch_ ,” King Valiant chortled in dark glee, clearly enjoying his misery. “I do _not_ remember you being this feisty with Bayard.”

“I _wasn’t_ this feisty with Bayard,” Merlin agreed immediately and with no shame.“This attitude of mine is _all_ because of _you_.”

Rolling his eyes, Valiant leaned back on his throne and eyed the bacchanalia happening all around him. “I know you and I have our differences, Merlin, and I know I am not the monarch you would have wished to succeed the throne, but we both know that Mercia was at the brink of ruin when I took over. We were in the midst of a terrible war, having lost our monarch, and the people had nearly lost their hope. Now _look_ at them. Not only have we won the war and taken Camelot as our own, but the curse was lifted, both on Mercia and Northumbria, along with Caerleon we are _flourishing_.”

Merlin could not deny that the years since the war had been won and the curse had been lifted things had been better, much better. Now they did not have to worry about their reigning monarch becoming steadily sicker and, in many cases, more demented, _and_ they were able to continue prospering through stronger ties with Northumbria and Caerleon. They had also had more than a couple of years to settle the new, larger Mercia, which not only boasted of what had once been Escetia and Camelot, but also included the kingdoms Camelot had taken as theirs as well. Mercia was by far the largest of the kingdoms of Albion now, and _no one_ would be fool enough to go against it or its ways, much less its barbarian king. And to be quite honest, when King Valiant had proclaimed that all born Mercians had the obligation to induct their new countrymen into Mercia’s own special brand of pleasure - well, he had cemented loyalty throughout the realm as Mercians had eagerly flocked all throughout the kingdom to better fulfill their ‘sacred duty’.

“Mercians no longer are the scandal of Albion, no longer is our lifestyle, our _love_ , looked down on,” Valiant continued on. “Now we are a model to emulate. Now even those who used to be from _Camelot_ can be seen either eagerly accepting their place, or teaching it to others. Our special brand of love is spreading to the other kingdoms as well, for if it can be acceptable for the greatest of kingdoms, how can the lesser deny it? Every time a new potential ally leaves our court he more than eagerly takes the servants we oh so Kindly supplied for him and his men especially, and thanks to that we have our men inside of most, if not all, of Albion’s royal courts reporting back to us. Within the next couple of years I suspect Mercia shall grow even larger thanks to further acquisition.” He chuckled and looked towards the older man standing silently by his side. “Is that not _right_ , Grand Court Sorcerer?”

Merlin glanced over towards Aulfric, who had been as stable a presence in the Mercian Court since his he’d been brought as the king’s ward as King Bayard had been himself. Not only was Aulfric well known and respected, but he’d been monumental - instrumental - in the saving of Mercia. 

The sorcerer, whose power was as mysterious as his heritage, appeared somewhat older than Bayard had been before his death. He emanated power though, age not having touched him in the way it did others, instead he was still strong and able to enjoy all that which usually only a much younger man would be able to. In fact, Aulfric was very much a man in his prime not seeming close to stopping as yet.

“Yes, My King,” Aulfric replied with a sage nod of his head, his expression calm, collected, not at all betraying his pet Roarke's position on his knees, the druid taking him dutifully into his mouther. “Joffrey has reported that King Godwyn and his kingdom are _particularly_ close to being ready for the picking.” Although his face was stoic, his hands moved caressingly in Roarke’s hair, holding him in place as his hips moved so he could fuck himself deep into his pet’s mouth.

Valiant grinned toothily. “Who had money on Godwyn being the first to go?”

“I think Sir Killian did, sire,” Aulfric answered after a moment’s thought.

“It was Sir Bertrand,” Merlin corrected immediately, despite the fact that not many would dare correct Aulfric.

“I think he might be right, Grand Court Sorcerer,” King Valiant chuckled.

A tray clashed violently to the ground, drawing their attention to the rowdy laughter as Sir Southerland yanked one of the servants trying to take the empty glasses away onto his lap, deftly removing the plug always keeping those in service at the castle loose enough to be used as needed, the knight burying himself into the gangly brunet to the cheers of those around him. The server gripped at the knight’s shoulders with parted lips as he immediately started to roll his hips, eliciting a choked moan of appreciation from the one inside of him, who very quickly lost himself to the pleasure.

“If it’s already like this now, Aulfric, imagine how the capital will be come the dark moon.” Valiant applauded Sir Southerland, as were others, his expression viciously satisfied. “It is a good thing you broadened the lock-down to the capital, I do not think these four walls would be enough to contain them.”

“I agree sire, and it allows those attracted to the darkness to participate much more freely, to give back to the warriors and the kingdom keeping them safe,” Aulfric agreed, clearly proud of his place in that change after Mercia’s change of regime. “Already we have the usual dark tourists flooding into the capital despite the fact that Dark Week still a little ways to go.”

Blue eyes flashed in front of Merlin’s gaze and he flinched as the pain in his head not only increased, but seemed to race down one of his arms like lightning. Merlin gripped the wrist of his burning arm as he fought against the pain. This had only been happening since yesterday, and while he’d been trying to dismiss it as yet another sign of stress, a part of him was starting to worry.

“Are you alright, Merlin?” King Valiant called over towards him as he finally stopped clapping. “I thought your head was hurting you, not your arm.” He chuckled in dark amusement. “I would ask if you were having a heart attack, and yet we both know that is impossible.”

It was, and yet his heart was hurting him a lot. It didn’t seem like the sort of physical pain Merlin would expect from a heart attack, yet clearly there was something wrong with it which was growing steadily worse as the days went by. There was an ache, a longing, a desire, so torturous it was starting to drive him insane, and yet he could not understand what was the cause of this grief.

A high-pitched yowl echoed throughout the room to ruckus laughter that couldn’t quite drown out a dark growl of pleasure. The sounds drew Merlin’s attention from his pain to the source of them, not really surprised if he was being honest. 

Lord Percival was doing what he seemed to have been doing nonstop lately, thrusting into Mordred, his huge mountain of a body towering over the much smaller, thiner druid. The once Escetian knight turned Mercian lord had Mordred knelt on his chair, not only leaving him high enough for the large man to comfortably lean completely over, but angling his hole at the perfect height for maximum penetration. One of Lord Percival’s huge hands completely encircled and easily hid Mordred’s cock from view in its meaty palm, while the other trailed possessively up and down the druid’s pale chest and stomach. Mordred’s back was arched, one hand gripping the chair for balance, the other reached behind him to dig his fingers into his master’s ass to urge his thrusts in deeper. Despite the fact that Percival was normally never found with his cock outside of Mordred (the dark moon was definitely not at fault for _their_ crazed coupling), both looked incredibly confused and overwhelmed by the exquisite pleasure they were obviously receiving from each other’s bodies.

“Remember when Lord Percival used to swear he would never be able to accustom himself to our way of life?” King Valiant asked playfully. “And yet one look at the druid and he changed his story _very_ quickly.”

“There are a select few I wish nothing but the best of happiness to,” Merlin mumbled truthfully as the pain in his arm diminished enough that he could let it go. “Mordred and Percival are two of those people. They both experienced great loss, so the fact that they can find happiness and pleasure in each other actually leaves me feeling less burdened.” Pain streaked down his arm and he groaned as he gripped it again.

“Are you _sure_ you are unable to have a heart attack?” Valiant asked him curiously, as if wondering if that was what he was watching.

“Where’s Morgana?” Merlin found himself asking oddly, confused at the very question even as it slipped from his mouth.

Valiant blinked in confusion and shared a look with Aulfric before turning to him. “Who is Morgana? That sounds like a woman’s name, and you know very well that none are allowed in the capital, Merlin.”

“I believe he means Mordred’s sister, My King,” Aulfric mumbled after a moment’s thought before turning to Merlin in confusion. “Do you mean where she was buried? Because I think he said her tomb was in what was once Camelot’s Stone Garden. ”

Morgana was dead. O-of course she was dead. She’d died during the war between Mercia and Camelot, had been one of the many royals slain by King Uther who, driven to madness at his defeat, had decided that death upon his blade would be a kinder fate than whatever King Valiant would give them once his men breached the castle’s walls. The only reason Mordred’s life had been spared had been due to Lord Percival’s own intervention, the Mercian lord having killed King Uther before he could finish the injured boy off with a swing of his sword.

“ _Now_ we are _talking_!” Valiant cheered with a wolf-whistle from the throne, very unkinglike, but that was very much expected of him by now. “It takes the Head Knight of the damned Kingdom to show everyone how it’s done!”

Lancelot raised his fist in recognition of the praise yet it quickly lowered back to grip Irvyn’s hips as he pushed into the druid who was lying on his back across the table. The Head Knight’s eyes rolled up in the back of his head, not seeming to know whether he enjoyed the feeling of being inside of Irvyn, or of Cassius being inside of _him_ better. It must’ve been Cassius because Lancelot desperately twisted around enough to kiss his husband, whose thrusts into Lancelot was truly what were driving Lancelot’s cock into Irvyn. The druid on the table was writhing in mind-numbing pleasure yet wasn’t quite able to move considering Sir Bertrand was on the other side of the table and had the head Irvyn hung off the edge of the table gripped tightly, wantonly feeding his cock into the druid’s mouths.

Honestly, it was surprising Irvyn was even visible given the fact that Sirs Montague and Geraint were kneeling on the table on each side of him, the druid’s hands stroking their cocks as they kissed each other hungrily above him. And there was Sir Dudley who was next to Sir Geraint on the table but who was touching himself while sucking on Irvyn’s cock with loud relish.

The sights, the sounds, the smells, were distracting, drawing Merlin’s complete attention, starting to drown him in the overload that was rising from everyone. He could feel that part of him he kept hidden, kept locked away deep down inside of him, growing uncharacteristically restless. It paced within him yet, while clearly aroused by the open, wanton carnality, let out weird snarl-like whines, clearly searching for something. When it couldn’t find whatever it was looking for it threw its head back and let out a sound that Merlin had never heard it make before. It sounded, surprisingly enough, like some sort of _call_.

_Blue eyes_. Golden hair.

Collapsing to his knees at the overwhelming pain in his head, Merlin saw a face for a split second, a beautiful, strangely familiar face he felt like he should recognize, but before he could wonder where he should know this face from, darkness consumed him.

* * *

_“Really, Master.” Those lips pulled in a smile that proved that despite using that title on Merlin, the owner of those lips had all the power and knew it. “What are we going to do with that naughty cock of yours? I_ **_do_ ** _need to leave the room_ **_sometime_ ** _you know.” And yet, even as he said that, those rosy lips were not only separating in a grin, but a golden body was shifting in bed to lay on its stomach. “Is this what you want, Master?” He presented himself, resting his cheek against the wolf fur and reached behind him to spread his own asscheeks. “Is this hole of mine what has you so hard and dripping?”_

_Merlin surged forwards, his tongue and lips devouring that hole hungrily and glorying in the sound the one who those lips belonged to made. That golden skin tasted like sunshine, and when Merlin hungrily forced his tongue inside he tasted honey-like sweetness that drove him insane. He buried his face in that cleft, sucking, licking, nibbling, desperate. At the first taste of that sweetness starting to drip out he groaned._

_“_ ** _Master_** _!” Those lips were parted into a lustful O as that golden body trembled, those hips undulating as if desperate for more friction from the tongue that invaded it. “Do I really taste good?”_

_“Honey, ambrosia,” Merlin snarled against that entrance like a starving animal. “You drip for me like a woman, your body is begging for my cock but I cannot give it to it yet, cannot bear to miss this taste on my tongue.” He flattened his tongue against that quivering entrance and lapped at it roughly._

_“Master! Master! Master!_ **_Please_** _!” Those lips were gasping out cries as those hips undulated quicker, more desperate. “I need it, please Master, give me your cock!”_

_“_ **_No_** _,” he refused as he continued to suck and nibble and lick. “I can’t stop. I won’t stop. I will spend the whole day licking at your wellspring until my thirst is quenched, and if it is never quenched, then be prepared to stay here, ass in the air,_ **_forever_ ** _.”_

_Those lips pursed in a despaired whine. “Pleeeeeaaasseee Master! Please!”_

**…**

**…**

Merlin woke up with a gasp, body covered in sweat and heart racing. That pain, that pain he did not understand, twisted deep inside of him. Pain pounded in his head and burnt its way down his arm, but they did nothing to diminish the weeping need tenting the sheets. He’d been in the middle of a bacchanal the night before, and he’d been intrigued, interested, but one random dream with some faceless, nameless figure and he was rearing to go unlike he’d ever been before.

_Maybe I am getting old_. He ran his hand down his face. _Maybe this is me going mad_.

A groan escaped his bed-companion, who shifted slightly in his sleep, lying on his stomach and taking up most of the damned sheets as per usual. 

Honestly, there were definitely worse people to be the Consort of than the King of Mercia, and yet Merlin had never quite been a hundred per cent on board with this. Maybe it had had to do with the fact that, having grown up in the Court with his father and Bayard, Merlin had heard firsthand how neither of them had quite liked Valiant when he’d come to Court for the first time. He’d kept his distance from the older knight as his father had told him to, continuing to do so even after his father’s death, and since Valiant had never made an effort to get close to him or befriend him he figured the feelings of distrust and dislike her mutual. And then Bayard had been killed by Nimueh, and Valiant had taken over as king.

At the time Merlin’s future had very much been up in the air. He’d been Bayard’s ward, his unofficial son who he had raised with his lover, and thus had no claim to the throne, yet there were still those in court who would say his closeness to the old king made him a threat to Valiant, who was not completely accepted by the Court. It was why, when Valiant had come to him with the offer of becoming his Consort, Merlin had had no other option but to accept it, as it was truly the only way to not only protect his own life, but to make sure that Mercia did not become divided due to courtly loyalties. It had been nearly impossible at first thanks to Valiant’s impossible size, but Aulfric had assisted in that matter.

And while there was pleasure, and Merlin understood that as the King’s Consort he was one of the most important people in the land, there was something _missing_. He just did not know _what_ it was.

Blue eyes.

Merlin groaned as his headache worsened, as did his aching cock. He found himself inexplicably hungry. He always needed to feed that thing inside of him that his father had always told him to keep secret, but it had never felt _like this_.

Golden skin and hair.

Merlin shifted on the bed as the hunger grew and that thing yowled inside of him.

Red lips.

They were only snippets, only bits of a face, of a person, he could not see, but they made him agonized. His cock dripped with need unlike it ever had as a hunger unknown surged forth inside of him.

Valiant snored.

Desperate, needy, driven by that primal need to feed, Merlin moved under the sheets, settling himself on the king’s back in a drastic reversal of their usual roles. His cock found its way between Valiant’s legs and pressed against his entrance. Merlin breathed heavily, seeing flashes of gold, of blue, of red, beneath him.

Closing his eyes to better concentrate on the fleeting visions, Merlin lowered to drape himself over the body under his and started working his cock against the tight hole. It resisted against his probes but he persisted his assault on the ring desperately.

Suddenly Valiant went absolutely still beneath him. “What the hell do you think you are _doing_ , Merlin?!?” He tried to move, to get up, and Merlin would’ve been more shocked than Valiant at the king’s inability to move had he not been going insane with quicker and quicker flashes of gold, of blue, of parted, begging red. “I don’t know how you’re doing this but this _is treason_ , merlin!” Valiant snarled. “I will not—-!”

And then Merlin breached Valiant’s tight ring, he was dry inside, he was tight, but the need dripping from Merlin’s slit slowly started to coat his insides and made each desperate thrust a little deeper, a little easier.

Valiant let out a mangled sound as his body stilled under Merlin in absolute shock at the penetration. He tried to move, to buck Merlin off, but seemed unable to do more than aid in his own penetration as those bucks filled him with more of Merlin. The king opened his mouth countless times, as if to call for the guards, and yet all that escaped those lips were whined cries that were low, breathless, and raspy. 

Each thrust got Merlin deeper, further inside, and then he bottomed out inside of that heat and stilled as pleasure rippled from his groin to his tip at the sensation.

_‘Harder, Master! Harder! Please!’_ That voice sobbed in Merlin’s mind.

He obeyed, eyes closed tightly as he began moving. The body beneath him was much bigger, didn’t feel right, but with his eyes closed, those flashes in his eyes, and that voice begging for him Merlin lost himself for the first time in sexual pleasure. He bit down on that back, holding it still as his hips drove forwards so roughly, so deeply, that the slap of skin hitting skin echoed loudly off of the walls.

“I will have you _hanged_ for—-!” Valiant groaned deep in his throat as Merlin’s thrusts began to shift his body forwards, causing the royal bedhead to slam repeatedly against the wall. “ _Hanged_ …” He clutched at the pillow and bit into it deeply to try and silence his breathy groans. “ _H-hang—-_ ** _godsbelow_**!”

That thing inside of Merlin was feeding hungrily, as if it had been starved, as if it had been kept starved, and was now finally able to consume something. It wasn’t reacting to Valiant in desire, merely taking what it needed from him with hellish determination, as if it felt it was imperative that it grow stronger.

‘ _Master! Master!_ ’ Flashes of parted lips, begging eyes.

Merlin sobbed as he came inside of the king, his body twitching as he did so, and yet there was a strange hardness in his balls. He’d cum, he knew he had, he’d felt it, and yet something felt different. It was almost as if he’d reached climax and yet had not actually spilled any physical proof of it inside of the king. How was that possible? Was it a side effect of the Consort magic?

“You will regret this, Merlin,” Valiant swore, but it would have been more threatening were the king not groaning and shifting his hips now that Merlin’s had stopped moving. “I will make you pay for thinking you could—-!” He shuddered when he angled his hips in a certain way that caused Merlin to brush a special place deep inside of him. “ _Whatwasthat_?” He was trembling, his lips parted, his voice surprisingly terrified, as if that sensation had filled him with the fear of the gods. “Merlin, what _was that?”_

Given he fed off of sexual pleasure, Merlin shifted his hips to rub the nub the king had accidentally revealed to him earlier.

Valiant screamed into his pillow as he broke out into cold sweat. He started threatening Merlin again but the man wasn’t quite sure what he was being threatened about because while he was torturing that numb Valiant was the one fucking back into him desperately. Those huge, muscular legs wrapped around Merlin’s calves in a clear order not to stop, and he didn’t, consuming the arousal that thickened the air as the Mercian king sobbed and groaned like any common whore.

“How does it feel to be the one pinned down?” Merlin wanted to know darkly as he whispered into his ear. “How does it feel to have that cock you’re oh so proud of but still find yourself desperate to be used like a Consort?”

“ _Kill you as soon as you stop_ —- ** _ughn_ _don’t sto_ p** _!”_ That was very contradictory.

“You’re not worthy of being the king, Valiant,” Merlin hissed into his ear. “You’re nothing but a common whore.”

“Shut up!” Valiant snarled through his pleasure. "Know your fucking place!”

“I should show all your little subjects, all the knights and lords you act so superiorly with,” Merlin hissed. “You act like you are a Master, but you’re really a _pet_.” He dragged his nails down Valiant’s sides, sneering at the throaty groans coupled with rougher thrusts back that earned him. “I’m going to make you cum with another man’s cock in you, Valiant. By the time I’m done with you that cock of yours will be useless to you.”

“You can fucking _try.”_ And once again Valiant wasn’t as terrifying as he probably wanted to sound, not with the desperate quiver to his voice or the way his body seemed to allow him to move now because he was scooting further down on the mattress, body seeking further penetration.

The thing inside of Merlin wanted to drain Valiant dry, wanted to kill him.

Merlin didn’t understand the hatred but he kept a check on it, he didn’t know why but some part of him knew he needed to completely fatigue the king without actually killing him. He needed to feed, needed to feed, _needed to feed_. So he did, making his threat to the king quite real. And yet, even as he did, he kept his eyes closed tightly so he could see that gold, that blue, that red, so he could better hear that voice that made something inside of him clench in both pleasure and agonized longing.

‘ _Master!’_

The first time Valiant came he muffled his sounds with his pillow.

_‘Husband!’_

The second time Valiant came he bit so hard onto his bottom lip he punctured it and drew blood.

_‘Idiotic sorcerer!’_

The third time Valiant came he was crying out loudly, open-mouthed and closed-eyed.

_‘Mate!’_

The fourth time Valiant came he was threatening Merlin with death should he stop moving.

_‘Beloved demon!’_

The fourth time Valiant came he was begging for more, agreeing he was a common whore who needed cock.

‘ _Merlin!’_

The fifth time Valiant came he was doing all the work, Merlin merely holding on while Valiant fucked himself desperately back into his cock.

_‘Mine!’_

The sixth time Valiant came — which was the last time before he collapsed in utter fatigue into his cum-drenched mattress — he letting out screams so loud there was no doubt anyone outside the door heard. He was called himself a cockwhore, a useless hole, a cumdump and a sow, he called himself anything else Merlin whispered into his ear as long as it meant Merlin continued to thrust inside of him. 

_‘I love you!’_

Finally pulling out, Merlin turned and sat on the edge of the bed, one hand to his aching head and the other to his solar plexus. Now that that thing inside of him had fed it was more active than he remembered it ever being, hissing and howling and not exactly _saying_ anything because it could not speak, but it wanted Merlin to find ‘the mate’. 

What mate?

_‘I love you.’_

Merlin was bound to Valiant by Consort magic so while he only barely tolerated him Valiant was probably the closest thing to a ‘mate’ that he had.

And yet… he couldn’t get those blue eyes out of his mind. Bright with happiness. Quirky with mischief. Sharp with anger. Dark with desire. Who _was_ that? Who did those eyes belong to? Who was haunting him?

_‘I love you.’_

Golden hair caught brightly in the sunlight. Reflected moonlight almost magically. Was a shade darker when wet. Smelt of sunshine. Of the breeze. Smelt comforting.

Red lips pulled in a smile. A smirk. Parted in outrage. Pull straight into a grim line. Twitched slightly at the corner in reluctant amusement. Puckered sweetly for a kiss. Soft. Sweet. 

_‘I love you_.’

Merlin gripped at his chest tightly as that unidentifiable pain, coupled with that suffocating longing, worsened. 

Golden skin kissed by the sun. Fingers calloused and rough from holding a blade. Body sinewy, limbs long, strong, used to pull him in tightly and hold him close without a chance for escape. He didn’t want to escape. Not from the warmth of that skin or the heath within. Tasted like honey. Burnt him like fire. Goosebumps lifted while shivers spread. Home. That body was _home_. _Merlin’s_ home.

_‘I love you.’_

The confused man pressed his hand harder against his throbbing, aching head as confusing realization filtered in between each sharp jolt of pain. “I love him.” 

But who _was_ he?

A jolt of pain in his head.

A worse one.

Another.

But he closed his eyes tightly and rode through it because in between each terribly painful throb was the faint hint of something.

A name.

He just couldn’t make it out as yet.

Agony.

Blood dripped from his left nostril.

He held on.

And then the pain had all been worth it.

**Arthur**.

Merlin’s eyes flew open. “ _Arthur_.” His burning arm glowed with runes for a split second at the sound of that name before they disappeared once more, but not before he’d seen them.

Magic.

That was _magic_.

Even though he didn’t have any, Merlin had seen it being used enough to know it was magic.

Staring at his now unblemished arm with questions jumbling up in his mind, Merlin knew only three things for certain: 

One - The person who’d been haunting the recesses of his mind for so long now was named Arthur.

Two - Merlin loved him.

Three - Magic was involved somehow.

Taking in a deep breath, Merlin ran his hand over his face and tried to figure out exactly what he was supposed to do with this information.

* * *

To be quite honest, Merlin was shocked he hadn’t at least been thrown in the pillory for his actions towards the king. Whatever the reason, Valiant hadn’t taken his revenge the second he’d awoken, nor had he during the next couple of days as he ‘recovered from the flu’ in bed, which could only mean he was waiting to be physically strong enough to dole out the punishment in person. With that in mind, Merlin had escaped to spend some nights in a separate room (“so as not to get the flu”) and had taken advantage of the time away from the king to try and find some proof that Arthur had actually existed and that he wasn’t just a figment of Merlin’s crazed imagination. And yet no matter how hard he searched around the Mercian castle Merlin could not find one physical trace the golden haired male had ever existed. He’d turn corners and see flashes - momentary, far too quick to really see - flashes of Arthur everywhere, grinning or laughing or angry or sad or mischievous. But that was all in his head. There was nothing concrete. No where. Nothing. It was driving him insane.

“The only Arthur I ever knew was my half brother,” Mordred declared after a second’s thought when Merlin approached him out of sheer desperation when he found him in a rare moment without Percival around. “He was the first one my crazed father killed because, as the heir, he could not be allowed to be taken by Mercia.” He shook his head, glaring at the memory of the man who had taken everything from him. “And considering we were enemies of Mercia and never came here he can’t be the one you’ve been seeing.” He frowned slightly. “I would tell you to go to Aulfric about this as there seems to be magic involved, but if you do he’ll no doubt tell King Valiant, and it will not be good if he finds out you are actively searching for some other man.”

He wholeheartedly agreed. “Can you keep an ear out in case anyone mentions that name. I couldn’t really get a good, long view of him, but he’d be around your age with golden hair, golden skin, blue eyes and kissable lips.”

Mordred got an odd expression on his face.

“What is it?” Merlin asked curiously.

“It’s nothing.” The druid shook his head. “It’s just that that actually _does_ sound like my half brother.” He made a face. “Minus the whole kissable lips part, of course.”

Amusement curled in Merlin’s stomach as he reached out to mess with Mordred’s hair in tender regard. “Thank you for this, Mordred. I don’t really know who I can go to who wouldn’t feel obligated to tell Valiant, except for you.”

Mordred beamed in obvious pride at the trust being placed on his shoulders. “You know I’ll do anything to help you, Emrys.”

Merlin frowned in confusion. “Emrys? Why did you call me that?”

Mordred blinked in identical confusion, looking a little disturbed as he met Merlin’s gaze and admitted softly: “ _I don’t know_.”

' _MERLIN_!'

"Do you hear that?" Merlin jumped at the sound.

The druid blinked. "Hear what?"

Merlin didn't answer.

* * *

The problem with magic was that those who did not have it had no reason to truly study it, so that meant that Merlin was without any sort of knowledge which could help him figure out exactly where he should start searching for magic runes that glowed momentarily on your arm when you realized you were in love with an imagined a person who probably had never even existed in the first place. There was also the fact that Merlin had never really been interested in magic before, which was probably due to the fact that he’d resented that that thing inside of him had devoured any trace of it he might’ve inherited from his father had he not also inherited that _thing_. Whatever it was.

If Merlin started hanging around the magical tomes in the library people would have questions, questions he would not be able to answer, which was the only reason why he didn’t go straight to the library. Also, Aulfric kept most of the actual tomes of magic - those that weren’t just filled with trinket spells - under magical lock and key. This was usually a very good thing as it meant that Aulfric - and through him the king - only allowed the most trusted of magical users to gain knowledge and power - even if only to a certain degree. Aulfric, as the Court Sorcerer, was the only one who had all the power, and - as it should be - was the most powerful magic user in Mercia.

It didn’t help that with the dark moon approaching, and King Valiant ‘indisposed with the flu’ a lot of the preparations now fell on Merlin’s shoulders. That took a lot of time out of his hands, but Merlin had agreed to these sorts of obligations when he’d agreed to be Valiant’s Consort, so he did what he had to dutifully while making sure to keep an eye out of flashes of gold and mischievous smiles.

There was none.

That thing inside of him continued to call out, Merlin just didn’t know to what.

* * *

_The Mercian Court was in chaos, magic racing back and forth, people screaming, trying to outrun the darkness physically reaching out towards them, grabbing them, and yanking them back into its tangible body. Soldiers, guards, warriors, knights, sorcerers, druids, they all tried to fight it, tried to give the others time to escape, but one by one they were all falling victim to that all-consuming darkness._

_“Get to the Swain! Get to the Swain! It can’t get inside! Get to the Swain!”_

_Merlin’s eyes widened when he heard that voice, and he turned to see_ **_him_ ** _\- the one named Arthur - there, a little ways ahead of him, trying to usher the screaming people towards the side of the castle. Arthur was covered in bruises, cuts, scratches, but he was standing strong, emotionally, physically, herding the terrified people around him._

_A scream echoed behind him._

_Merlin twirled around again, this time seeing a dark haired woman screaming from the ground. Blood gushed down the insides of her legs like a crimson flood and gathered on the cobbled street beneath her, her light eyes wide in horror, completely blind to the darkness which reached out behind her, ready to grab her. Merlin was running towards her, towards the darkness, before he even knew what he was doing, picking her up and somehow managing to dodge the swipe of those inhuman hands._

_He hurried towards Arthur, who looked up when he noticed him coming, and then stared in horror when he saw the woman’s bloodied state. Merlin passed her to Arthur. “Get her to the Swain. Get her to Guinevere. I’ll buy you time.”_

_“What do mean you’ll buy us time?” Arthur whispered hoarsely. “Merlin, I —-.”_

_“I’ll be right behind you, Arthur,” Merlin promised as he pressed a deep yet quick kiss to the golden youth. “Now GO!”_

_Arthur’s face crumbled but he took in a deep breath and nodded. “Hold on tightly. I’m going to have to run.”_

_She nodded and gripped him tightly around his neck._

_Merlin watched them go, fear clenching in his chest, before he turned and faced the oncoming darkness._

* * *

Merlin looked up at the large building on the side of the castle that no one really ever went to anymore. Years of abandonment showed in its bones, as did the lick of what had been a terrible fire. This had once been the royal stables where the best horses were kept apart from the others so they could be breeder and their lineage continued only in the best mares in Mercia. The fire that had been purposely set here years ago had nearly killed them all, but Aulfric had managed to save the thoroughbreds and move them to a more secure location, leaving this place to fall into disrepair.

Honestly, it wasn’t surprising people didn’t want to come around here anymore. This was an ugly sight and it was weird that it had yet to be torn down. It was also the only building in this side of the courtyard though, which really went against the dreams and visions he’d been having. When Arthur had been herding people towards ‘the Swain’ it had been in this direction, but why would he make them go towards this burnt building?

And what had been that darkness?

_It was a nightmare, nothing was real, you’re deluding yourself, you always were._ Merlin closed his eyes in despair. _You’re in love with a figment of your own imagination. Because of that you did something to Valiant that will no doubt get you killed. You’re clearly insane._

He forced his eyes to open, to stare at the proof that whatever he was seeing, it wasn’t real. 

“It **is** an ugly sight,” a voice declared from behind him. “I never understood why it wasn’t torn down.”

Merlin glanced over his shoulder at Cassius, who was standing a couple of steps away yet staring at the charred remains of what had once been a magnificent building. “What are you doing all the way over on this side of the courtyard, Court Physician?”

“I don’t really know,” Cassius admitted as he came to stand next to Merlin. “I find myself coming here sometimes and just looking at these remains. They give me—I feel odd when I look at them.”

“What do you feel?” Merlin asked curiously.

The man took in a deep breath, clearly conflicted. “Like I’ve lost something very precious to me.”

Merlin’s eyes widened, and he turned back to look at the building with slightly less assurance now that he was actually insane. 

“Sometimes I just stand in the doorway of Lancelot’s and my storage room and stare inside and feel like… I do not know _what_ I feel like.” He clenched his fist by his side. “I know Lancelot feels it as well, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. I’ve stopped trying to bring it up to him, but that doesn’t change anything.”

‘ _-lin!_ ’

Merlin pressed a hand to his chest. “Did you hear something?”

Cassius listened in silence before shaking his head. “No. What did you hear?”

Merlin took in a deep breath. “Someone calling my name.”

The Court Physician snickered. “You sure it isn’t your self-preservation expecting to hear the king?” He glanced down at Merlin’s crotch area with a raised eyebrow. “You sure must have a huge pair given the ‘flu’ you gave him.” He was clearly hiding his amusement as his eyes returned to Merlin’s. “You should just be grateful my medicines have been laced with sleeping droughts, I’m hoping by the time he’s finally ‘over the flu’ he’ll be so rested and feeling brand new that he won’t have you publicly flogged.”

Merlin gulped. “I had thought I might end up in the pillory.”

“Merlin, you left him sleeping in his own seed,” Cassius spoke with the patience one would with a fastidious child. “You’d be _flogged_.”

Taking in a deep breath, Merlin gave the Court Physician a half bow. “I am forever grateful for your assistance, Cassius.”

Chuckling, Cassius shook his head. “Come now. I came looking for you because I cannot keep the king sleeping for much longer. We must figure a way to further ingratiate him and make him be lenient towards you when he finally awakens.”

While he let Cassius lead him away from the charred remains of the stable, Merlin sent a look over his shoulder, able to hear that voice screaming his name even as he walked away and turned the corner.

* * *

"Are you still seeing this Arthur guy?" Mordred asked curiously as he brought some food to Merlin, or, well, he had  _Percival_  bring everything for him, which the huge mountain of a man had done without any complaint whatsoever. "I hope you don't mind that I told Percy, but I figured that he'd keep the secret if I asked, and I wanted to know if maybe he knew any Escetian who might match your description."

Merlin turned his gaze to Percy.

"Sorry, Merlin, I don't know anyone with that name," Percival apologized as he lowered everything he'd brought in the two trays to the table. "Why do you think you're seeing him?"

"I don't know," Merlin admitted as he collapsed onto his seat. "But I feel as if I'll go crazy if I don't find him."

Percival sat down on the seat opposite his. "Could it be a weird side effect of the upcoming dark moon?"

"Percy, he's a Consort, feeling something for  _someone else_  is unheard of, it's the opposite of what should be happening with the approaching dark moon," Mordred huffed. "It would be as if  _I_  suddenly wanted to---." He squeaked when Percival reached for him, pulling him onto his lap, yet while he tried to glare at the knight, amusement clearly colored his face. "Now is _not_  the time for that, Percy."

"You have a dirty mind, little druid," Percival scoffed as he merely arranged the boy better on his lap, reached out to grab a grape, and brought it to his lips in a clear desire to feed him it. "I am just looking out for your health. You're too skinny."

"I'm not too skinny, you're too--too--hulking." Mordred huffed in sulky irritation as he rolled his eyes, yet still accepted the grape before turning an embarrassed look on Merlin. "As I was  _saying_ , the only one who fits the description you've given me is my half brother."

"His _very_   _dead_  half brother," Percy added helpfully as he stole another grape and offered it to Mordred.

The druid tried to look annoyed, really, he _did,_ yet the corners of his lips were clearly twitching when he accepted the grape once more.

Merlin sighed and leaned back heavily in his seat. "Well it  _obviously_  isn't your very dead half brother." He ran a hand over his face. " _Who_  is it? And why can't I get him out of my mind?"

Percival and Mordred exchanged little looks, clearly worried.

The three of them spent the rest of the evening trying to brainstorm, but Merlin didn't think they would really be able to help, not when they continuously failed to hear that voice screaming his name.

* * *

_Nightbirds sung loudly, calling to each other, serenading, while the wind whistled a haunting sound. Water shifted, splashed, as deep-throated groans mingled in the sounds of night. Arthur straddled Merlin’s hips as the latter leaned his back against the embankment at the water’s edge. Behind them was the light of a campfire, with men laughing as they talked around the flames, not seeming to notice that off to the side, a little distance away, Arthur was using his knees to slowly lower and raise his body over Merlin’s. The blonde had his arms wrapped tightly around Merlin’s head, his own leaned to the side so the face he trapped against his skin had complete access to him._

_Merlin’s grip remained on Arthur’s hips, but instead of using it to control the thrusts he instead kneaded, massaged, the skin adoringly, visibly allowing Arthur to control the way he wasbeing penetrated. The pace was incredibly slow, incredibly deep, and the sounds Arthur and Merlin let slip passed their lips proved the torture this slow movement was for both of them, and yet Arthur continued his slow, teasing movements._

_“_ ** _Arthurrrrr_** _,” Merlin groaned in agony. It was clear that he was close to desperate and yet wasn’t doing anything to take control like he wanted to._

_“What does my beloved mate want?” Arthur asked with gasped, similarly tortured breaths. “Does he desire something from me?”_

_“I want to fill you,” Merlin nearly sobbed._

_“But your precious seed might go to waste if I can’t manage to keep still, to clench tight enough around you,” Arthur whimpered in desire yet was visibly fighting giving in. “I could_ **_never_ ** _forgive myself if even the tiniest drop slipped outside of me.” He arched his chest into Merlin while sinking his hands into that dark hair and massaging the scalp, clearly encouraging him to continue biting him, sucking on him, leaving bruises and teeth marks all over him. “You don’t_ **_want_ ** _me to be unhappy, do you, Master?”_

_Merlin let out a tortured cry. “I told you already, I don’t know_ **_how_ ** _to control it!”_

_“That’s because you kept it from me for so long, because you doubted me, my love, my position. You kept your true self from me. You_ ** _denied_** _me my rightful mate.” Arthur hissed angrily at him even though it was obvious that it was taking him all he had to keep from being consumed by the pleasure. “If you had trusted me - if you had_ ** _given_** _it to me when you_ ** _should_** **_have_** _\- you would know how to do what I desire so achingly.”_

_“When I should have?” Merlin’s voice was choked, breaking. “W-when should I have given it to you, Arthur?”_

_“Our first night together, after I was disoriented with pleasure, my face hidden in your wolf fur,” Arthur groaned brokenly. “You should have shifted, should have buried it inside of me, should’ve given me even more pleasure than you already had been. By the time I would have finally seen your true form I would have been too far gone in pleasure to care. You should’ve spent every night after that one buried inside of me, hooked deep within even as we slept, keeping me still, teaching me the true meaning of being your cock’s_ **_home_** _.” His breathing got a stuttered quality to it, as if just imagining it had stolen his breath from him. “Nimueh would_ **_never_ ** _have been able to take me from you had I been hooked so securely.”_

_“_ ** _I don’t know how much more of this I can take_** _.” Merlin sounded absolutely broken and a bit unhinged, his hands trailing up and down that back desperately, roughly, visibly needing to touch everything. “You are driving me insane, Arthur. Just, please, let me—-.”_

_“I thought you said you’d listen to my desires tonight, or were you lying to me, Master?” Arthur stopped him immediately with that question, lips curling in dark pleasure at the tortured, inhuman sound Merlin made. It didn’t sound like something a human should be capable of making, it sounded like something a monster, a creature, would, and yet instead of being shocked or disgusted, Arthur’s eyes darkened in arousal as he shivered immediately and leaned in to whisper into Merlin’s ear. “I am so sorry, my cherished demon, that you have to suffer as well, but he needs to be taught the error of his ways.” He nibbled the shell of Merlin’s ear before flicking his tongue against it teasingly even as he continued to push up and lower down on his knees so fully, so slowly. “You denied me the knowledge and touch of my true Master for so long, Merlin. You must be punished for keeping any part of you hidden from me,_ **_especially_ ** _such a magnificent thing as your true form, the one you so erroneously thought should be concealed.”_

_A deep-rooted groan escaped Merlin’s parted lips as his eyes fluttered open, revealing the magic exploding in his pupils not only at the sweet torture of that body moving against him, but at the words that slipped passed his lips. “I_ **_love_ ** _you_ **_so much_** _, Arthur.”_

_Arthur smiled before clearing his throat and seemingly remembering that this was a punishment, so he caught the curve of Merlin’s ear between his teeth roughly, his voice muffled by that toothy grip when he growled out: “We have so much to catch up on, Master. And while I understand why you choose to keep that part of you hidden from others, I refuse to allow you to keep it from me anymore.” He squeezed his hold around the cock inside him punishingly, almost strangling it, grinning around Merlin’s ear when he heard the sob that escaped Merlin at the sensation. “When it is just you and me do not tire yourself with whatever method you use to keep your true nature hidden.” His fingertips massaged Merlin’s head. “We have much time to make up for, My Love, and I will have my dark demon bare to me in all of his hellish glory.”_

_Merlin’s fingers dug deep into Arthur’s back, his voice breathy. “Do you really mean that, Arthur? You—you do not just say it because you think it is what I want to hear, right? Would you truly not mind if I were always in that twisted form and not just when the need is too much to bear? I will understand if—I already cannot believe how lucky I am that—do not feel forced to—-ever—-.” He groaned deep in his throat when Arthur began to circle his hips, completely distracting him from whatever he’d been trying so hard to say._

_“Would not_ **_mind_?** _” Arthur let go of his teeth’s grip on Merlin’s ear as he continued to circle his hips in a clearly punishing motion. “Merlin, it seems as if you need me to keep repeating myself to you, and I will, however long it takes for you to finally believe me.” His grip tightened in Merlin’s hair so he could force that head angled to the side and speak deeply, directly, into that ear. “Your true form does not disgust me. It does not scare me. It is not something I have decided to accept - to tolerate - due to my love for you.” He raised up and then slammed himself down, hard, on Merlin, causing yet another inhuman, demonic sound to escape Merlin’s lips. “Did it surprise me when I first saw it?_ **_Yes_** _. Was it completely unexpected and not what I was steeling myself for when I told you to reveal your true self to me?_ **_Yes_** _.” He clenched around Merlin once more. “Do I_ **_desire_ ** _it? Those eyes, claws, fangs…” He shivered, his voice breaking as arousal deepened amazingly and rose from his pores. “_ ** _Gods below_** _.” Arthur shifted to pull back so he could stare into Merlin’s eyes as he spoke. “Merlin, I understand why you’re not comfortable being yourself while around others, but while alone with me, be_ **_yourself_** _.” He cupped Merlin’s face with his hands. “Spend the rest of our lives making up for keeping the true you from me. Bite into my flesh with your fangs, tear into my skin with your claws while holding my body in place, stare at me with your intense, dark gaze, and claim me over and over again with your cock._ **_Your_ ** _cock. Your amazing, monstrous, overwhelmingly pleasurable cock.” He settled down on Merlin’s lap and undulated his hips backwards and forwards. “Hook me, Merlin. I know it should terrify me but it_ **_doesn’t_** _. The thought that you want me so much your body physically latches on so you can seed me so deeply…” His hips lost their rhythm for a second before finding it once more. “Only then, will I forgive you.”_

_Merlin stared up into Arthur’s face and looked like he wanted to cry, but he just buried his face in Arthur’s chest, forehead against Arthur’s heartbeat. “_ **_I love you so much_** _.”_

_“And I you.” Arthur wrapped his arms around that head again. “But you still cannot seed me until you do what I asked of you.”_

_“I don’t know_ **_how!_** _” Merlin whimpered in absolute torture._

_“You_ **_told_ ** _me you could keep your cock hidden to all but me.”_

_“Not_ **_immediately_** _. It was something I was offering to work on, work towards, if you were interested!” Merlin grunted harshly. “Not even in my wildest dreams did I anticipate that you would so instantaneously—!”_

_“You offered, so figure it out, idiot sorcerer,” came the breathy order._

_A whimpered snarl escaped Merlin’s lips before he shifted and latched onto Arthur’s nipple, suckling at it roughly._

_Arthur’s eyes rolled back in his skull as he threw his head back, the blonde shifting his hold on Merlin to once more grip that dark head, fingers deep in the hair. He ground his hips harder down, clearly rewarding, even if only for a second, the older man’s actions and urging him to suckle harder. And yet just as Merlin felt his climax slowly climbing to its crescendo Arthur stopped moving his hips._

_There was not even the tiniest hint of humanity in the sound that Merlin let out._

_Once again, like before, the sound brought a victorious smile to Arthur’s lips. “I cannot abidethe thought of this water, this current, taking even a drop of your seed from me.”_

_“I don’t know_ **_how_ ** _to do it on command.” Merlin’s voice was muffled by that nipple, the sounds of suckling wet and loud. “I spent a lifetime hiding it, denying it. I do not know_ **_how_ ** _to be myself, how to control it, how to—.”_

_“I want you to control it, I don’t just want you to hook me when you’re seeding me. I want you to be able to control how those ridges harden, sharpen, want you to force them harder so they scrape inside of me. It hurts a little, especially at first, but the harder they are, the deeper they scrape, the more sensitive I become.”_

_“You do?” Merlin asked in throaty amazement. “Do they really feel that good, mate? Do you really desire them so badly? Do you miss them right now? Do you wish they were hard and stimulating you?”_

_“Yesssss.” Arthur mewled. “They start off like sweet kisses deep inside of me only to turn into such sweet torture I can barely take it yet.”_

_“Do you know what they do that, Arthur?” Merlin asked with an incredibly dark look upon his face, a hint of something inhuman on his countenance. “They do it because the more stimulated you are, the more you open up, the more fully your body accepts mine, and thanks to that I can seed you at your most sacred depths.” His voice was incredibly low, raspy, sounding hoarse like a creature unused to speaking forcing words out for the first time. “It does that, Arthur, because no matter how impossible it knows its desires are, it desperately wants to_ **_breed_ ** _you.”_

_Arthur’s eyes went incredibly wide as he completely stilled on Merlin’s lap to stare down into his face. “It does?” He asked breathlessly, voice soft, vulnerable._

_“We do,” Merlin whispered back just as softly, maybe even more vulnerable._

_Breathing growing more and more pronounced, Arthur’s eyes darkened. “You want me to have your child, Master? Want my stomach to grow with your seed?” His hips jerked slightly. “Is that what you want?”_

_“Arthur…” Merlin’s voice was a soft warning. “No matter what I want, or how powerful you seem to think I am, you need to understand that I cannot—-.”_

_“Shhhhhhh,” Arthur interrupted, arching his chest towards Merlin and urging that dark head closer urgently. “Suckle, Master.” He keened when Merlin all too happily latched onto his nipple with his mouth, sucking hungrily while torturing the other nub between his fingers. “I will forgive you, but only for tonight. Tomorrow night, and the next, and the next, I will refuse to forgive you over and over again until you can give me what my body aches for.”_

_“Such a demanding little consort I have,” Merlin growled against his chest, the sound incredibly pleased despite his words. “I could never have dreamed up a more perfect, delicious, tight, sweet-tasting mate. How I love you, my Arthur. Love your skin, love your hair, love your eyes, love your mouth, love the way your body was made so perfectly to fit my cock like a glove. No matter my form, no matter my size, you are perfection. So tight. So welcoming. So desperate to have me inside.”_

_“_ ** _Merlinnnn…_** _” Arthur whined as very slowly he visibly started to lose the control he’d been maintaining up until now._

_“No, don’t speed up, love,” Merlin whispered against Arthur’s nipple when the blonde started to do just that. “Love up on me tenderly, milk your husband’s love and adoration deep into your body.”_

_“But I need…” Arthur gasped a cry even as he obediently slowed his movements back to that agonizingly slow rhythm._

_“You need my devotion, wife,” Merlin interrupted with a low growl. “You need more than a rutting, you need a loving. Relax, dearheart, open up to me, close your eyes and concentrate on the feeling of your mate.” He smiled when Arthur did as told, closing his eyes tightly while shivering. “Do you feel it, Arthur? Do you feel my love spreading deep inside you? Do you feel the way it seeps from my cockhead and buries itself inside your body?”_

_“M-M-Mer—-!” Arthur whined, shifting his hips side to side._

_“Even without the spikes, know that all I want to do - no matter my form, is to bury into your deepest of places and fill you with my seed.” Merlin finally let go of that nipple and shifted slightly back and down, easing Arthur down against his chest so they could kiss languidly, their hands desperately touching the other. “I want you so terrifying, Arthur, I adore you, I worship you. Every side of me wants you,_ **_you_ ** _. Being what I am I understand that it is hard to believe me when I say it, but I desire you so fiercely I terrify myself.” In this new position he gripped Arthur’s asscheeks, kneading them, separating and pressing them together, yet still allowed Arthur to control the speed of the thrusts, of his own penetration. “No one has ever loved me like you do, my Arthur, and I know no one ever will. You are my beautiful, thrilling, loving mate, and I do not deserve you.”_

_“I’m not perf—-.”_

_“_ ** _Yes. You_ ** **_are_** _.” Again that voice was inhumane in its raspiness, in its intensity. “So perfect. So impossibly perfect. How I love you, My Arthur.”_

_“Love me more,” Arthur ordered with a purr._

_“It’s impossible to love you more than I already do,” Merlin swore. “No greater love exists.”_

_“Still,_ **_love me_ ** **_more_** _.”_

_He smiled besottedly against those lips. “How can I refuse anything asked of me in that honeycomb tone? How can I ever deny the request of the perfect mate I do not deserve?” Merlin closed his eyes with a groan. “You are clenching me so tightly, dancing around me like a teasing caress, my pet. Are you close?”_

_Arthur couldn’t speak, merely squeaked out something unintelligible, his body wracked with uncontrollable tremors._

_“Cum for me, Arthur,” Merlin entreated. “Let your pleasure milk mine from me.”_

_The blonde gasped sobs as he kissed Merlin deeply, his body coming undone, and as requested, the mere feeling tore Merlin’s own completion from him._

* * *

“You are spending much time in this room,” a voice declared from the doorway. “People are beginning to talk.”  
****

Turning from where he’d been looking out of the window, Merlin forced a smile on his face, trying to hide how shaken that last vision had left him. The last person he needed suspecting something might be amiss was the king’s own right hand man. Aulfric had always been kind to Merlin, but that did not mean that he was fool enough to believe the man would keep whatever he told him from Valiant. “And what exactly are they saying? That I am a horrible Consort for not wanting to catch a flu?”

Shaking his head in amusement, Aulfric entered the room and glanced around before coming to stand next to Merlin by the window, staring out at the courtyard. “What is it about this room in particular that draws you, Merlin?”

Intrigued by the question, Merlin glanced around before shrugging. “I do not know. I feel comfortable here.”

“Your place is with the king,” Aulfric informed him as he gripped onto his staff tightly. “Not here.”

Rolling his eyes, Merlin returned his gaze out of the window. “You act as if a little time to ourselves is a bad thing.”

“You set an example for the Court, the kingdom.” Aulfric raised an eyebrow. “They look to your relationship as a guideline of how to behave in their own. It was bad enough that you would choose to visit Caerleon without him. This behavior of yours will only cause problems, and I thought that you agreed to become the king’s Consort to _avoid_ situations such as that.”

Merlin wasn’t listening to Aulfric, he wasn’t even looking out of the window, not really. Instead he was staring at his reflection, his mind returning to that latest vision. Could they be memories? If so, did that mean that that thing inside of him was a demon? What did that mean? And why could he remember himself having magic when that was not the case? 

_Was it a past life_?

But if so, why was he suddenly remembering it? 

“I know you did not agree to be his Consort out of love,” Aulfric declared, placing his hand on Merlin’s shoulder and squeezing tightly. “But you _choose_ this, didn’t you, Merlin?”

The headache that seemed to come and go randomly returned. “Y-yes.”

“Good.” He squeezed that shoulder and shifted his staff slightly so it caught Merlin’s attention and drew it away from his reflection, instead resting it on the staff’s eternal glow. “Return to the king’s chambers, Merlin. That is where you belong.”

“Where I… belong.” Merlin felt a little hazy, and he’d be sleepy if it weren’t for the pain worsening in his head. 

“You want the best for Mercia, Merlin.” That staff moved a little more prominently in his line of sight.

“I want…”

The thing inside of him - the _demon_ \- let out that same desperate call it had been emitting at least once daily ever since it had started to awaken.

Merlin flinched out of Aulfric’s touch and grabbed the older man’s staff, shoving it out of his face, and keeping it gripped tightly in his arm as he turned to face the Grand Court Sorcerer.For a moment the world around him shifted, flickering like flames in the wind, daylight and shadow, contrasting the tighter he held onto the staff. “Do you know what I _want_ , Aulfric?” He growled, not recognizing the dark timbre in his tone as he moved closer towards the older man, holding him in place as neither of them let go of the staff, which gave Aulfric no where to go. “I want you to tell me something.” A blink - the room cast in moonlight, shadows slithering around them like snakes. A blink - beautiful daylight filled with birdsong. “Remind me, again, old friend, _where_ Owain is.”

The elderly man blinked before clearing his throat and smiling in curiosity. “ _Who_?”

“Bayard’s manservant.” Merlin’s grip tightened his grip on the staff. “The person _he died_ to protect.”

“That was, of course, _you_ , Merlin,” Aulfric chuckled oddly. “He loved no one more than he loved you.”

The room flickered between night and day, darkness and light, truth and fantasy.

“You see, I’ve never doubted that Bayard cared for me, but _that_ is a lie.” Merlin’s grip on the staff was shaking, as if just by touching it he was slowly beginning to remember things which just didn’t make sense. “Bayard loved _no one_ more thank he did Owain.” His eyes bore into Aulfric’s. “He _died_ for Owain. He _prepared_ things years in advance so, whenever he died, Owain would be taken of.” His eyes narrowed. “So _where_ is he?”

The demon snarled.

“I think Merlin, you may have the king’s flu and it is making you delirious.” Aulfric used his grip on the staff to shift it closer to Merlin’s face again as he too leaned in towards Merlin. “The dark moon is most probably affecting you. The Lunacy—.”

Merlin used his free hand to slam the staff’s glowing crystal head violently into Aulfric’s face, the unexpected blow causing the elderly man to stumble backwards, his body weight yanking the staff out of Merlin’s hand, returning the world to eternal sunlight, and yet the doubts, the questions, reamined.

The second his back hit the wall behind him, Aulfric raised his staff high, aiming the glowing blue gem at Merlin, magic flying out of it at him. 

Instinctively Merlin flung his arm out, and to the surprise of none more than him, Aulfric’s magic froze in the air between them. Merlin grit his teeth, forcing out more of whatever this was, somehow standing there, holding his own, against Mercia’s Grand Court Sorcerer. He had a million questions, but chief of all was: “Where. Is. Arthur?” 

“You are _ill_ , Merlin!” Aulfric yelled, visibly forcing more and more magic into his attack, which caused his nose, already bloodied from where Merlin had shoved his staff into it, to bleed even more. “Do not worry, you will sleep, and when you wake up this will have been nothing but a fevered dream.”

“ _Where. Is. Arthur?_ ”The pain was now gone from Merlin’s head, and yet it burned in his arm as slowly, _slowly_ , the runes he’d seen for a split seconds previously began to burn them back onto his flesh. 

“No one with that name exists, Merlin!” Aulfric’s grip on the staff was trembling. “You are ill! Let me help you!”

“ **Where. Is. Arthur?** ” Merlin’s voice shifted, deepened, sharpened, and something about him felt different. Whatever it was, it used Aulfric’s eyes to widen in absolute terror as he stared at him, slack-jawed. The magic being funneled against him wasn’t weakening, but something was different, and it was with greater ease that Merlin surged forwards, pushing the magical attackas he stormed his attacked. The hand held palm-towards Aulfric was shifting, going paler, claws emerging from his fingers as he grabbed Aulfric by his tunic and picked him up by that hand, shoving him against the wall. His free hand, also pallid, clawed, curled around the burning crystal and slamming it into the wall next to Aulfric’s head. The staff’s magic was burning his palm, trying to slip passed that hand to attack, but being completely restrained by the grip around it.

“ ** _What are you_**?” Aulfric strained against his hold, staring up at him in utter horror.

Merlin pulled Aulfric away from the wall only to shove him roughly back. “ **WHERE?** ” Again. “ **IS?** ” Again. “ **ARTHUR?** ” Again. Again. Again. _Again._ ** _Again._**

Aulfric was clearly disoriented from the blows, staring at his staff with a whimper.

A muscle jumped in Merlin’s cheek and a growl, inhuman, demonic, slithered out passed his lips as his grip on the crystal tightened and tightened until it not only was it cutting into his flesh, but with each drop of his blood the crystal began to crack.

“ _Impossible.”_ True terror filled Aulfric’s eyes as they shifted from the crystal to Merlin seconds before the crystals shattered, exploding violently. Immediately all daylight was chased away, revealing dark night, surrounded by shadows, the night alive with the sounds of clashing blades and war.

Merlin’s gaze watched the darkness chase away the light, leaving behind dark markings all around the walls and ceiling. He’d seen this before. “ _You_.” He turned his eyes on the man. “ _You_ killed Malcolm, or _had_ him killed.” He lifted the man up higher by his shirt. “ _Why_? What do you _want_?”

“It doesn’t matter now, you can’t stop it.” Aulfric smiled tremulously. “It’s already done. We’vefinally gotten what we’ve wanted after so many years.” He motioned towards them with his free hand. “The House of Bayard has fallen.”

“Not _yet_ it hasn’t.” Merlin leaned in closer with a snarl.

“ _MERLIN!_ ” A voice yelled, very faintly, from somewhere outside.

Eyes widening, Merlin flung the destroyed staff to the side and reached with his now free hand to fling open the windows and peer outside.

There, in the courtyard, Arthur fought creatures of darkness, of shadows, leading a group of men and some of the castle’s women in battle. Excalibur shone in his hands, the glow from the sword clearly not only hurting the shadows, but allowing those who struck them to hurt them as well. Little by little the group was recovering more and more of the courtyard, driving the shadows closer and closer to the castle doors.

Relief filled Merlin as he stared down at Arthur.

Arthur glanced up at that moment and utter relief filled him at the sight of Merlin. “ABOUT TIME YOU APPEARED! DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG I HAVE BEEN SCREAMING YOUR DAMNED NAME?”

Grinning, relief filling him, Merlin shot his mate a look before slipping back into the room and turning to Aulfric, who was trying to fight free unsuccessfully. Without his staff not only was he no threat whatsoever, but the magic he’d conjured was already dying off. Soon Mercia would belong to the Mercians again.

“I’d really like to kill you right now,” Merlin admitted in a growled tone. “But I have _many_ questions for you before I do so.” And with that, he backhanded the man fiercely, his magic flinging the elderly man into the wall with such force he immediately collapsed, knocked cold.

Taking in a deep breath, Merlin was about to gran the man and take him to the dungeons when he noticed his hands and froze in horror in realization that he was in his true form. Had anyone other than Arthur seen him like this when he’d looked out?

Even if—-maybe he could say it was the shadows playing tricks. He couldn’t let anyone else see him. Not like this.

It was that reason that, instead of taking Aulfric to the dungeons, Merlin constructed one of magic. His hands weaved in the air, magic forming, created glowing bars that surrounded the unconscious man. Merlin didn’t know how long he could hold this magical cage, but it would have to hold until he could hide himself once more. 

Leaning hard against the wall of his and Arthur’s bedroom, Merlin slid down and stared at himself, first noticing his burnt, bleeding hand, and then his abs. He glanced down at himself, at the outfit the bespelled version of himself had seemed to think appropriate wear. Then again, considering he’d been playing the role of the king’s Consort he supposed the tight pants, bare chest and glittery black and gold cloak which was secured on him via a choker-like clasp around his neck yet remained open to reveal said bare chest - as well as the golden rings and bracelets accenting the cloak - _would_ be something appropriate. Didn’t mean he enjoyed it, though.

Cheers raised in the courtyard, victory now claimed for Mercia.

Merlin wanted to go to the window, wanted to make sure Arthur was okay, but a look at his arms proved they were still covered in demonic writing, his fingers still tapered into claws. Until he could figure a way to get back to his human disguise he’d have to stay in this room, and couldn’t let anyone see him. It was why he locked the bedroom door with his magic. He could not have anyone coming in to see him in this form.

Knees bent, elbows resting on them, Merlin stared at his clawed hands and tried to piece together what exactly had happened after he’d blinked himself, Arthur, and the others back to Mercia. Aulfric’s spell was still leaving him, so it made things a little fuzzy. It seemed as if only a couple of hours had passed since then, and yet it had seemed like **years** to Merlin. Obviously snapping them here, and then fighting, had drained him enough to get himself captured and, what, enchanted? Was that what happened? And yet this was different from any enchantment he’d ever felt before. Enchantments usually only affected things live-time, didn’t make it seem that more time had passed than actually had.

And then there was the staff to consider. Enchanters did not need staffs. 

_Where exactly_ ** _is_** _Simon?_ He didn’t remember seeing Simon in the tranced state, which either meant that he had not been captured - or he might be a part of this.

Tired, Merlin leaned his head back against the wall.

Suddenly the door flung open despite the magic Merlin had placed on it to keep that from happening, and he turned towards it, standing, surprised, only to find Arthur standing there.

Arthur stood in the doorway, Excalibur burning in his hand, blood and bruises and scratches all over him, but the blood didn’t seem his own. He seemed frozen in the doorway, just _staring_ at Merlin in horror.

Merlin nearly pulled away at that. It wasn’t—had Arthur started to see him differently now that he’d seen what darkness could—-?

“What the _hell_ are you _wearing_?” Arthur squeaked, that horror deeper in his throat.

Merlin blinked and looked down at himself, realizing his attire had been the cause for Arthur’s horror, not his demonic appearance. 

“You know what? I don’t care right now. You can explain it later.” Slamming the door shut behind him, Arthur dropped Excalibur, which disappeared before it hit the ground, and was suddenly hurling himself at the cambion, arms around his neck, legs around his waist, and mouth kissing his, fangs and all. “When I saw that thing take you—-I thought—-you _idiot_!” Arthur snarled in between kisses. “Why wouldn’t you answer me? I called for you over and over again!”

“I heard,” Merlin promised against his lips as he turned and pressed Arthur against the wall. “That saved me. _You_ did.”

Arthur looked confused but didn’t ask any questions about that claim. The blonde merely pulled Merlin closer, and the two lovers lost themselves in each other while Mercia loudly cheered their victory over the enemy.


	2. Chapter 2

So much had changed for Mercia in just the course of one night.

Merlin, to be honest, could not believe that everything he’d lived through had taken place during that one night, that while years had happened so very physically for him, it had been mere _hours_ for the rest of the castle. Those who’d been taken by the shadows had the same confusion as him, feeling like they were under some sort of sleeping drought that they were only now coming out of, remembering what had happened under the effects of the enchantment (was it an enchantment?) as one might would a past life. It still felt real. 

A lot of things made sense now - like Valiant’s ban on women in the capital being due to the fact that there were no women in the castle due to the upcoming dark moon, and Aulfric working around it. Honestly, Aulfric (if that was actually his name) had molded events to keep them so lost in their enchanted (he was going to go with enchanted even if he wasn’t too sure it had been an enchantment) that they would not fight him and make what he’d come to do easier to accomplish.

It would appear that the only place not touched by his magic had been the Swain Residence, and that when Merlin had spelled it so that no one could come in without Owain’s permission that had applied to Aulfric’s shadows as well. He was still surprised at that, but he really didn’t have time to think about what that meant for right now. No. There were other more pressing matters to handle.

“While I would love to be toasting in celebration to the two heroes of Mercia,” Lancelot sighed as he eyed Arthur and Merlin, neither of which had been very comfortable with what people were calling them ever since the night before, “today is a day of mourning.”

The expressions around the table were incredibly solemn. 

“As you know, last night Queen Morgana lost the heir to Mercia, it was only Merlin’s magic inside of her that managed to save her own life considering just how close she was to death,” Lancelot declared, face ashen. “From what Merlin has told me of his encounter with this Aulfric who attacked us, that seemed to have been his whole purpose. He wished to end the House of Bayard, and with the child dead, he has succeeded.”

“What does this mean for the kingdom?” Sir Killian wanted to know with a heavy sigh. “I know that should Lord Valiant be strong enough to be here he would be pressing the point that, as she lost the child, the Queen no longer has a right to the throne, _he_ does.” The knight leaned back heavily in his seat. “And while I will be the first to admit to his faults, he would not be wrong. With that child gone, Lord Valiant is the next in line.”

“There _has_ to be someone else,” Arthur declared as he made a face. “Surely King Bayard had some other relative who was closer than him?” And yet the looks around the table proved that this was not the case.

Merlin sighed, having known this as well. The curse had decimated those of the royal family, the only reason it hadn’t taken Valiant was just how distant he was. And now, now, the curse was gone. It had served its purpose. It had ended Bayard’s line. Merlin had failed Bayard. Again. 

Arthur leaned back against Merlin’s chest, clearly unnerved by the idea of Valiant as king, and yet as he shifted on Merlin’s lap he visibly was forced to bite down on his bottom lip to keep from groaning at the way it shifted the cock he was warming. It was clearly all he could do not to fuck himself on the cock and merely keep it warm inside of him.

“Even if that were not the case, the Queen Regent is far too weak to lead,” Sir Southerland declared. “We _must_ appoint a new sovereign.” He took in a deep breath. “We _must_ appoint Lord Valiant.” He made a face. “Even if it was just a conjuring of our attacker, and even if he was also trapped with us merely playing the part Aulfric gave him in order to give us cohesion and a semblance of a life to keep us placid, that version of the kingdom was prosperous. And even excluding that, we need a warrior on our throne during such a time as this.”

Murmurs rose, many conflicting opinions voiced.

Sir Bertrand sighed and turned to Merlin. “Have you been able to interrogate the one who called himself Aulfric, Grand Court Sorcerer?”

“He is still unconscious in the dungeons, I may have hit him a bit too hard last night,” Merlin admitted with a sigh. “Cassius will let me know when he is awake.” He also wanted to speak to Owain before he did so, because given the message Owain had sent him earlier he clearly knew something, but given everything that happened since the attack neither had had a moment to talk.

Fionn tried to muffle his sob into the table, digging his fingers into the wood, yet wasn’t able to hide his pleasure.

Sir Cadman gave him a soft slap up the back of his head. “Be quiet, Fionn.” And yet even as he said so he moved up into his squire. He wasn’t the only one. No matter how grave the situation, how dire the moment, the dark moon was still approaching, and as such the knights and lords and sorcerers were all closer and closer to losing composure, there were very few in the room was without a body on their lap. Lancelot and Percival being two of these rare ones seated alone. The pets and consorts were the only ones allowed to hear, though, the temporary servants having been left completely deaf due to the lack of a loyalty oath owed. 

“We must march on Camelot,” Sir Montague declared with utter finality. “This has proven to us that we cannot stall any longer. We have the Grand Court Sorcerer, and we have Prince Arthur and his Excalibur, both of whom we would have been defeated without last night. The people are saddened at the death of the child, but they are also bolstered by the Golden Death and the Exiled Heir. We _must_ rally our allies and march on Camelot, meet it in battle, and defeat it once and for all.”

“What do we know about what happened to King Simon?” Merlin wanted to know, feeling Arthur tensing around him. “He was not a part of the trance but I have not seen him since either.”

“He received a missive via a falcon regarding issues in Northumbria that he was forced to go and deal with a couple of days ago.” Sir Lindsay was one of the few knights not bothering to hide the pleasure on his face as he fucked into Roland, who was groaning into his neck wantonly while fucking back against his master’s cock desperately. As one of the court who’d sided with Valiant, Sir Lindsay and his boy had been separated the whole time and were visibly trying desperately to make up for the time they’d been apart. 

“He was really sulky about it as well as he’d wanted to be here when you got back,” Sir Xavier agreed with an eye on Merlin, glancing between him as the blonde on his lap as if worried to say this next part. “From what I overheard him complaining to one of his men, he figured if you were going to be breaking your monogamy with Arthur so epically he’d wanted to be involved.”

“Oh, he said that, did he?” Arthur sneered as he settled back more comfortably on Merlin’s lap, bringing the cambion’s hand to his cock in a very possessive and obviously claiming way. “Well, King Simon can keep dreaming. **I** am the only one who gets to decide who **I** allow to enjoy my Master’s touch.” His hand reached back to curl around Merlin’s head and massage his fingers into that scalp while smirking. “Isn’t that right, Master?"

“Of course, Arthur,” Merlin groaned into his ear, beginning to move inside of him, finally giving the blonde what he knew he’d wanted. “Only you.”

Surprise filtered over the faces of everyone at the table, masters and pets alike as they openly stared at the twosome.

The only one not surprised by this utter, complete relinquishing of power was Arthur himself, who was smirking at a the whole table, seeming to be proving something to them all. The blonde’s smirk only slipped a little when Merlin’s thrusts proved too shallow and he whimpered while leaning heavier against the cambion, shifting his hips beseechingly.

“What do you want from me, My Love?” Merlin asked him in a low tone. “How can I please you?”

“Deeper,” Arthur ordered in a whine. “I need to feel you _deeper_ inside of me.”

Merlin obeyed readily, his thrusts not accelerating in speed but pressing deeper within. “Like this?”

Arthur leaned the back of his head against Merlin’s shoulder, his lips parting in a hollow groan. “ _Yes, Master. Keep it that deep, its caressing me deliciously like that_.”

Only too eager to obey, Merlin did so, ignoring the countless shocked looks being sent around the table. While Arthur was known not to be the ordinary Consort, his issuing orders to his Master, coupled by Merlin’s all-too eager acceptance of said orders, was completely unheard of. Master dominated their Consorts, and Merlin _did_ dominate Arthur, but both he and his boy knew that in _many_ ways Arthur dominated _him_. While all the other Consorts were happy to be molded and used by their Masters, Arthur demanded more from Merlin than any other Consort ever had, probably ever will, and while some other masters might not have appreciated it at all, Merlin and his demon gloried in it.

He didn’t just own Arthur, _Arthur_ owned _him._

Someone cleared their throat, loudly, drawing the wide-eyed attention off of Merlin and his beautiful boy.

“We also need to try and figure out not only _how_ Aulfric was able to get into the castle, but who helped Joffrey escape—-and whether the same person was responsible for both acts,” Lancelot declared, visibly trying to get the conversation back to what must be done before they could march into battle.

“I think I have an idea that can help with that,” Arthur declared, drawing everyone’s attention back on him. “I was thinking about Merlin told me about—-!” He’d been shifting forwards to rest his elbows on the table when the shift caused the cock inside of him to brush hard against that nub, and he scrunched his face in delirium, holding up a finger to ask them to wait for a minute while he gasped out: “ _M-Master_ …”

Knowing the meaning of that sound, Merlin leaned forwards, draping himself over Arthur’s back as he fucked up viciously into him, tearing loud cries from those rosy lips. He lathered the boy’s neck with hungry kisses while letting go of his cock to instead rub against his stomach, snarling in unhappiness to not be able to feel himself in this form.

Arthur reached down to press one hand hard against the ones Merlin was rubbing his stomach with, the blonde keening and sobbing before he arched his hips and came, his orgasm milking Merlin’s from him. The prince sunk heavily into the table, Merlin’s deadweight pinning him against it as the two of them gasped breathlessly. It couldn’t have been very comfortable but Arthur merely shifted as much as Merlin’s full weight on him would allow to angle himself for better penetration.

Merlin groaned and yanked up the back of Arthur’s shirt to stick his own head under it, the darkness surrounding him as he bit and sucked the prince’s back while beginning to thrust inside of him again.

“I— **!** ” Arthur’s voice broke in pleasure as he squirmed on Merlin’s back, goosebumps rising off of his skin at Merlin’s attack on his flesh. “A-as I was s-saying…” He breathed incredibly heavily. “I have a p-plan that might w-work.”

* * *

 

“How long have you known about this?” Merlin looked up from the book laid open in front of him to Owain. “How did you even know about this book? _I_ did not know this book existed and I’ve been the Court Sorcerer _for years_!”

“Yes, well, there were certain things Bayard never trusted to tell _anyone_ ,” Owain sighed heavily as he sat down next to him. He’d seemed to have been waiting on Merlin when the cambion had knocked on his door, na the expression on his face had proved that not only was he taking Morgana’s miscarriage hard, but the news he’d had was a very bad one. And it was. “And I suppose this was a great shame he would not want anyone to know of. It took him _years_ of sharing his bed with me before he opened up about some of it, and even then I knew he wasn’t telling me everything, and now I understand why.” He ran his hand down his face. “I never would’ve judged him for it considering he himself didn’t commit the act, but I can see why he would not want to take the risk of this information leaking.”

It was still horribly condemning. 

Merlin leaned back heavily in his seat and turned his gaze back at the journal of Bayard’s ancestor, a journal which detailed King William of Mercia’s massacre of the Osgar bloodline - the bloodline of William’s _Grand Court Sorcerer_. According to William’s journal, the Osgar family had served since ever since the Dragonlord dynasty collapsed and William’s ancestors claimed and named Mercia. Their families had been entwined, the Osgar family having faithfully served the Mercian rulers and helped them become the renown and feared rulers they were. It had seemed like a perfect existence, a flawless union, until King William of Mercia became one-sidedly obsessed with the son of his late father’s Court Sorcerer. 

Upon Eric Osgar’s oath taking, the Mercian King had abused his power over the beautiful youth and had taken him to his bed. The journal entries after that spoke of nothing but his obsession towards the sorcerer, and his vile jealousy over the fact that he could not command his heart as he had his body. And then it became apparent to the king that the sorcerer’s affections lay elsewhere, with one of William’s knights. The next journal entry had been speckled with blood, declaring that the sorcerer’s father had come to tearfully entreat the king to allow his son to be happy with the knight as they wished to wed - and the king had agreed, had offered a celebration for their marriage - and had poisoned all those who’d come to celebrate. He’d then hunted down and slaughtered the rest of the family, stating one of two stragglers had escaped, but that they would _never_ recuperate from having ‘betrayed their king’.

It would be a couple of years later, after King William was married and with children of his own, that he’d be cursed by one of those survivors with the curse which would forever destroy his family, killing them far too early, a fitting revenge if there ever was one.

“This book, amongst others, were entrusted to me by Bayard upon his death,” Owain admitted tiredly. “Part of the reason why I did not leave my room afterwards was that I was pouring myself over them, trying to understand what was in them and why he’d will them to me.” He sighed heavily. “I realized that in his own way, Bayard was trying to tell me that he was always going to die, that thanks to King William Bayard’s days were always counted. He’d only lived as long as he had - passed the age most - if not all - of his ancestors had, was because of you and me.” Owain gulped heavily, clearly emotional yet refusing to shed any tears as he shook his head. “Anyway, I would never have even made the connection if it wasn’t for this. I knew I’d seen it somewhere, but it took me a while to figure out where.” He reached over and flipped the pages of the book to show a symbol to Merlin that had been scribbled on the page. “There.”

Merlin stared at it, and at first he couldn’t remember where he’d seen it, and then he did, and his eyes widened. “This is the symbol inside of the—-.”

“The curse in Malcolm’s room,” Owain finished. “I know, I went to look at it afterwards. Your magic may have eaten away the curse itself but there was still a faint outline and I sketched it because it looked familiar but I couldn’t remember _where_ I had seen it before.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, opening and smoothening it to reveal the sketch in question. “Whoever killed Malcolm, whoever is behind Aulfric, is a descendant of the Osgar family, most probably the same sorcerer who cursed King Simon’s father.” Owain let out a stuttered breath. “That’s their family seal.”

Merlin clutched the paper tightly in his hand. “I need to wake up Aulfric, the time of waiting for him to do so on his own is over.” He turned to Owain. “Thank you. If you find out anything else, let me know.”

“Of course,” Owain declared as if that should be obvious.

Squeezing his shoulder, Merlin took in a deep breath and was about to get up and head out of the room when Owain’s door flew open and Cassius was there.

“Merlin, you need to come, _now_ ,” Cassius whispered harshly.

Merlin stood immediately. “What is it?”

“Joffrey’s turned up dead,” Cassius replied in a low, urgent voice. “And if his body can be believed, he’s been that way for _much_ longer than he should’ve been.” His eyes narrowed. “You _need_ to see this.”

Merlin and Owain exchanged confused, horrified looks, before hurrying after Cassius, who refrained from talking but whose pace told them everything they needed to know about his frazzled state. Honestly, Merlin wasn’t quite sure what to expect, wasn’t sure what could cause Cassius such distress, and then he entered the infirmary and Cassius led him to the farthest bed, drawing the sheets away from the body there.

Owain instinctively drew back. “That _can’t_ be him!”

“I couldn’t recognize him either,” Cassius muttered as he gripped the white sheet tightly. “But _that_ is Joffrey.”

“ _How_?” Owain’s voice was squeaked in horror.

Merlin just _stared_ at the desiccated, blackened body twisted in betrayal of an agonized death. While a few blonde tufts of hair remained on the scalp most of it had either fallen off or been burned by whatever had blacked - drained - that body. The cambion weaved his fingers in the air over the body, and yet, what he found was utterly confusing. He looked up at Cassius with a frown. “That can’t be.”

“You felt it too.” Cassius leaned hard against the wall. “I was hoping you’d disagree, that you’d sense something I hadn’t.”

“How is that possible?” Merlin hissed before understanding shattered through him. “Where was the body found?”

“Outside the city’s walls,” Cassius whispered, rubbing his fingers against his forehead. “A couple of the village men were out there playing with some of the rejected Swain candidates and they stumbled across where his body was hidden. I didn’t even realize it was him until I did more intrusive searches.”

Merlin stared at Cassius in growing horror, a look which Cassius tiredly returned.

Owain glanced between them in growing confusion. “How about explaining things to the only non-magical person in the room?” He frowned darker at the looks Cassius and Merlin exchanged at that. “What? What is it?”

Cassius covered Joffrey’s body back with the sheet and leaned back against the wall, clearly too tired to answer.

Merlin turned to Owain. “Joffrey’s been dead for at least three years.”

Owain blinked, frowned, looked between the Court Physician and the Court Sorcerer in growing confusion. “But that’s impossible. He’s been alive this whole time. Three years ago—-.”

“He arrived to the capital to train as knight,” Merlin replied darkly. “Except, _he_ never actually arrived.” He let out a heavy sigh. “He never even made it through the city’s gates.”

Owain’s eyes widened. “You’re saying we’ve had someone _pretending_ to be Joffrey… for _three years.”_

* * *

 

“Uh…”

“T-they’re for the Queen.”

Arthur had been deep in thought, trying to figure out how exactly to do this without it getting incredibly awkward. He wanted to check up on Morgana, because while they were not exactly close she was still his sister, and their relationship _had_ bettered during the last couple of months, but that had been while Mordred was gone. Honestly, Arthur wasn’t sure how to proceed now that Mordred was back, not regarding Morgana, not regarding a lot of things. Chiefly Merlin. 

It wasn’t that he doubted Merlin’s love, because to be quite honest, ever since they had been reunited in that village Arthur had realized just the depths of Merlin’s love for him, and he gloried in it. He’d never felt more secure about anything in his life. There was no denying the love, the adoration, the near _worship_ his cambion had been showering on him ever since. But that didn’t mean that a part of him wasn’t still resentful of Merlin’s friendship, and bond, with Mordred.

It didn’t even have anything to do with seeing Mordred as competition, because, while it might seem terrible of him to see things this way - Mordred had never been his competition in his whole life. Not for the throne, and not for Merlin. Sure, the cambion and his inner demon clearly favored Mordred greatly, but Arthur knew that he was the most important thing for Merlin and that the cambion would never do anything to risk what they had. Honestly, Merlin acted more addicted than Arthur sometimes, and he loved that. So no. His mixed feelings did not come from a place of insecurity and worry - not anymore at least.

It came from a place of possessiveness and, if he was being honest, resentment.

Mordred was magic.

Merlin had said that once to Arthur, and the blonde knew that Merlin hadn’t understood why his words had bothered him so much. But they had. A lot. Because even though Merlin had just been stating a fact, he’d revealed something to Arthur that he hadn’t really thought of until that moment. Mordred, like Merlin, was born of magic, he and Merlin would be able to share something Merlin and Arthur never would - and _that_ was what really bothered Arthur. The blonde could not speak to his cambion directly to his mind - no matter the distance between them - and whenever Merlin was in danger Arthur could not sense it, could not assist Merlin the way Mordred had proven himself capable of.

_That_ bothered him.

It bothered him a lot.

And it had been his stewing over this that had made him so silent and had thus overheard the voices and managed to pull back against the wall and peer over the corner in surprise to see Mordred standing in the doorway, his back to the closed door, peering in confusion at the blue weedy flowers held out towards him.

Percival loomed over Mordred, looking incredibly uncomfortable yet determined. “I know that flowers will not soften the pain she must be going through, but I wished her to know that we have her in our hearts. We are mourning too.”

Surprise and genuine appreciation filled Mordred’s eyes as he glanced up from the flowers still being held out towards him. His blue gaze rose curiously to Percy’s face before darting away as he reached out very quickly and snatched the weedy bouquet from the mountain of a man with the reflexes of a fox. “Thank you. It will mean a lot to her.”

Percy smiled brightly before clearing his throat and rubbing his hand behind his head. “H-how are you doing? It must be hard for you as well. You have always been very close to her.”

“My sister is strong, how can I be anything but the same?” Mordred kept his gaze on the flowers resolutely, his free hand brushing against the petals softly.

“If you need someone to talk to I, Mordred, I — I am not good with words _myself_ , but I am good at listening.”

Once more Mordred’s gaze darted up to Percy’s face for a split second before it lowered back to the flowers. “Thank you for offering, but I’m sure we are both going to be far too busy for me to be as selfish and childish as to expect you to listen to my whining and complaining. Especially when I do not have the right to mourn, only she does.” He reached behind him for the door handle and was about to turn it. “I should—."

Instantly Percy took a step closer to him. “You have a right to mourn, Mordred. It would have been your niece or nephew. You suffered a loss too.”

Mordred gulped, his grip on the door hand tight and shaking, his gaze resolutely on the flowers clutched tightly in his hand. “I really should be going.”

There was a second’s hesitation before Percy placed his hand on Mordred’s shoulder. “I apologize if I am being pushy, but I, I am just worried about you.”

Surprised blue eyes rose to Percy’s face as Mordred’s own pale one darkened in a blush.He then looked around, almost desperately, and caught sight of Arthur, looking relieved to see the blonde for the first time ever. “Arthur! There you are! I was wondering where you were!” He smiled shakily at Percival before racing out of there, grabbing Arthur’s hand and yanking him back down the hallway that he’d just come from. “Morgana said you’d be skulking around, trying to figure out a way to check up on her without making it too obvious you were worried.” He shot Arthur a look up and down. “I don’t know what you did while I was gone, but she doesn’t think you’re completely horrible anymore.”

“Should you have just left Percy back there like that? He looked like he had more he wanted to say.” Arthur wasn’t quite sure _what_ he’d seen, but considering Mordred’s blush darkened he was intrigued. He was also intrigued at how open Mordred was talking to him. Their relationship had never been a good one, and in many ways that had been Arthur’s fault, as he’d never been able to forgive the children of his father’s mistress for the mere fact of being alive and being a constant reminder to his mother of the hardships she’d gone through because of being married to his father.

“He’s just being affected by the remnants of that damned spell, any traces of it will disappear soon enough,” Mordred grumbled before taking in a deep breath and turning to Arthur. “I was going to hunt you down if you didn’t come to see Morgana soon. Not only because she’s your sister too, but because, well.” He stopped yanking Arthur behind him, stopped walking, and groaned as he turned to face him. “You and I will never be best friends.”

Arthur nodded his agreement.

“I do not like you, I will probably _never_ like you, and I do not think you are good for Emrys. The druids have legends about him, you know? He’s supposed to do incredible things, and I think you’ll hold him back.” Mordred raised an eyebrow before he groaned and covered his eyes with his hand and let out a deep breath. “But despite my feelings towards the matter, Emrys has never kept it a secret how much he loves you.” It looked like it hurt him to say that. “And, well, Arthur…” He removed his hand from his eyes to stare at Arthur directly. “You _are_ the reason we survived Aulfric’s attack, and I have to acknowledge that.”

Confusion filled the blonde. “No I’m not. I might’ve led the charge on the shadow creatures, but Merlin—-.”

“Emrys was only able to do what he did because of _you_ ,” Mordred mumbled, sounding like it was hard to say this but he was resolute to do so. “I do not understand how you kept getting through to him, through the spell that was weaved around us, but you _did_. Arthur, Emrys spentwhat he thought were _days_ searching for you all over the castle. He at first didn’t even remember what you looked like, or your name, but he—-he was searching for you like a mad man. Talked nonstop about golden hair, blue eyes, and kissable lips.” He scrunched up his nose at that last part and leaned heavily against the wall. “It was your voice, your presence, your bond with him, that helped shatter the delusion we were under. And let me tell you, that was _incredibly_ powerful magic. I thought years had passed. I thought—I thought it was real.” He gulped and glared down at the flowers clutched in his shaking fist. “ _I believed it, believed everything, every lie,_ ** _wholeheartedly_** _._ ” He threw the flowers to the ground in utter fury before sighing as he gripped his hair tightly. “What I’m trying to say is that it was a cunning fabrication, none of it was real - but no one else questioned it other than Emrys—and the only reason he did was because _you_ were not there.”

Arthur just stared at his half brother in utter shock. “I don’t know what to say, don’t know how to explain how—. I—I’m not magic like you are, Mordred. I—.”

“You don’t _have_ to be magic, Arthur.” Mordred leveled him with a look that told him the druid clearly thought he was being purposefully obtuse. “It’s like what happened with the Embalming Curse. You are not magic, but you are _of_ magic. _His_ magic.” Mordred let out a heavy breath. “I _want_ to accept you, Arthur, because while we have no love for each other, _he_ has great love for you. And I do not know what it is, but since he has come back from the crusade…” Mordred eyed Arthur thoughtfully. “I do not know what you did, Arthur, but I have never seen Emrys this happy, or seen him as relaxed and unguarded as he now appears to be with you.”

Arthur gulped back the emotion he felt at those words.

Mordred just sighed in utter resignation.

The brothers stared at each other in silence, both observing the other.

Finally, Mordred broke the silence with a very heavily groaned: “Plus, if I’m being completely honest, I’ve decided that _anyone_ else is better than King Simon.”

“ _Gods below_ , he’s the _worst_!” Arthur agreed, finally glad there was someone else who seemed to think so.

“He _really_ is,” Mordred agreed in utter disbelief. “How could Emrys have _ever_ tupped that slimey—-?”

“ _RIGHT_?!?” Arthur threw his hands in the air. “I do not get it either!”

“He thinks he’s so perfect and—-,” Mordred scoffed.

“Did he do his mind tricks on you too?” Arthur wanted to know.

“You too?” Mordred’s eyes widened. 

“Does he _not_ make you want to _punch_ him?”

“That is the _least_ violent thing I wanted to do to him.”

The brothers continued airing their many grievances regarding King Simon, and by the time they’dfinally finished, all vented out, a small smidgen of camaraderie (born of their shared disdain towards the Northumbrian monarch) had been formed between them.

* * *

 

Lancelot hadn’t been able to sit through the whole conversation, halfway through he’d gotten up and started to pace restlessly, looking up at Merlin in shocked horror during parts of what he was saying, only to finally collapse back into his seat to stare unseeingly ahead of him at his desk and the things thereon. It was clearly a lot for him to process, the Head Knight just as shaken as the news had made Merlin, but when he finally looked up, head in his hands, there’d been determination in his eyes.

“We need to talk to Aulfric.”

“I know.” Merlin nodded. “That was why I came here to see you, you should be there when I interrogate him.”

“Of course.” Lancelot sighed tiredly before he stood, leaning heavily on his hands, which were palms down on his desk, allowing him to stare into Merlin’s eyes easier. “I honestly don’t know how many more shocks I can take, Merlin.”

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t tell you then that Percy and I are becoming friends,” Merlin admitted wryly.

Lancelot’s lips twitched. “That isn’t _quite_ a shock, you know. He _is_ one of Arthur’s few close friends, and he _is_ a very nice person.”

“I know that.” Merlin rolled his eyes that the guy had felt the need to spell it out for him like that. “It is just that, after I caught the two of you together, I believed that he would run away from me out of shame for the rest of our lives.”

In seconds Lancelot’s amusement faded. “What are you talking about?”

The cambion rolled his eyes with a groan. “What is it with you two? Are you just going to pretend that you weren’t having an affair and try forgetting that it ever happened? Because it _did_ happen, and running away from it just because I walked in on him sodomizing you on thisvery desk is _not_ going to change—-.”

Lancelot slammed his hands on the desk, hard. “You did **_what_**?”

Merlin stared up at Lancelot in shock at the outburst.

The Head Knight stared down at Merlin in confused horror before he collapsed onto his seat, his dark gaze extremely troubled. “My friend, look me in the eyes and believe me when I say that you _never_ witnessed such a thing.” His hands were trembling in utter fury. “I do not know _what_ you saw, but that was _not_ Percival and I. We—-we’re _comrades_. We’re _brothers_.” His dark eyes darkened even further. “I would _never_ put my family, my relationship with Cassius, in danger by doing something foolish like that.”

Merlin gulped, seeing the truth in Lancelot’s eyes, and then thinking back to all the little things he’d thought odd about Lancelot and Percy’s relationship after having ‘discovered’ the truth about their affair. Their immediate ease with each other and him afterwards. Their lack of oddity around Cassius. The confused and intrigued look Percy had given Merlin when he’d said that Lancelot would be jealous of them.

He then thought about his conversation with ‘Lancelot’, how the Head Knight had not only told him to keep what they’d been talking about a secret, but to not even bring it back up with _him_ in the future.

And then suddenly it made sense. The curse. The House of Osgar. The cover up of the truth to Malcolm’s murder and the magical threat. The convenient retreat. “Simon.” He looked up at Lancelot’s dark, furious eyes. “It was _Simon_.”

* * *

 

There were very few people allowed into the dungeons, who even knew the interrogation was actually happening, and they were the only ones who’d been filled in on the truth of what had happened, what had led to the fall of the House of Bayard. These few knew the truth about ‘Joffrey’, about Simon, and knew that the elderly man coming-to in the prison was their only link. Arthur still could not believe that one man had caused such chaos in Camelot, but he supposed that Simon had used his powers of enchantment to not only make the people of the Court unaware of Aulfric’s presence around them until he’d already become an infestation, but the monumental powers seemed to have mostly come from the staff that Merlin had destroyed.

Still, it was shocking to him that this man had been the near fall of Mercia - had been the final blow to Bayard’s bloodline.

He looked so, so, _average_.

Honestly, while it was understandable why Aulfric would take the position of ‘Grand Court Sorcerer’ from Merlin in the delusion, the thought of this man - powerless without his staff - replacing _Merlin_ of all people was both laughable and insulting. Still, Arthur _did_ get it. Being the ‘Grand Court Sorcerer’ would not only place Aulfric in a high position of trust where he could better manipulate the events and the people under his control, but the position he’d placed Merlin in had left him weakened as Aulfric’s spell fed off of him without allowing him to actually recharge. He supposed the reason why Aulfric had made Merlin Valiant’s Consort was knowing the dislike between the two men would keep them from sleeping together and thus would keep Merlin unable to recharge at all, since while pets, slaves and lovers were freely shared, Consorts _did not_ sleep with anyone other than their Master unless under very special circumstances

Honestly, this would definitely be the first and only time Arthur would ever be happy that Merlin had so thoroughly tupped Valiant, but at least Merlin had been the one doing the actual tupping this time. The blonde had to admit too, though, that a dark little part of him gloried in the way Merlin had admitted he’d had to continuously battle his own demon to keep it from killing Valiant during their rut. While Arthur was sure the demon had not been happy with Valiant’s treatment towards Merlin, the blonde knew for a fact, knew without having to ever ask, that the reason the demon wanted to kill Valiant was to avenge what he’d done to Arthur that day in the dungeons.

_My precious, beloved demon_.

“So, has Simon fulfilled his part of the deal your master gave him to remove the curse on him and his kingdom, or does he still have more to do?” Merlin wanted to know, eyebrow raised as he eyed Aulfric, who was awake and sitting in the cell, hand to his bruised face.

Aulfric looked up before clearing his throat nervously. “Who says _I_ am not the master?”

Merlin snickered. “As _if_ the House of Osgar would produce someone who would _need_ a staff to give him powers. No. That wasn’t a tool to help channel your power, that was _borrowed_ power. You were a pawn sent in to cause chaos, and in many ways you were victorious.” He moved towards the bars and grabbed them tightly. “But I doubt you expected to be caught before whatever else planned could happen.”

The older man instinctively pressed back into the wall, momentarily betraying the fact that he was terrified of Merlin, and that surprised Arthur until he remembered that Aulfric had apparently seen Merlin’s true form. Even though Arthur did not fear that form he could understand why others would. It was not _their_ mate.

Mordred narrowed his eyes on Aulfric.

So did Owain.

“ **I asked you a question**.” Back to the others, Merlin’s voice took on a threatening hint of the demon inside of him.

Aulfric must’ve heard it on his voice, seen a hint of it on his face, because he leaned back even harder against the wall as if possible, his breathing growing erratic.

Arthur’s breathing accelerated, but for completely different reasons.

“H-he really _was_ coming to make a deal with Mercia the first time, but w-when we sent word for him to meet us and offered him the deal he accepted and came here on our behalf.” Aulfric gripped his fingertips into the wall behind him. “He was to come to Mercia, keeping me hidden in his entourage, and facilitating my work. He was to use his Enchantments to target and destabilize, to crumple, the relationship between Mercia’s Grand Court Sorcerer and the Exiled Prince of Camelot. And, when the right moment presented itself, he was to assist me in taking the Mercian Court under my Mesmer until the Grand Court Sorcerer was drained into weakness and ripe for the picking… unable to stop Mercia’s fall or the Exiled Prince’s death.” Aulfric let out a stuttered breath. “The Northumbrian king left because he had already done his part, and my m-master is a man of his w-word. Northumbria, and its king, have now been f-freed of their curse.”

Arthur clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “He just sacrificed an unborn, innocent child in their place.”

“Not his child, not a member of his kingdom,” Aulfric replied immediately as if that made it better.

Lancelot, the only other person in the dungeons, glared at the man. “Your master, the _actual_ descendant of the House of Osgar, _he_ is Camelot’s sorcerer.”

Flinching, Aulfric looked away, giving them all the answer they needed.

Owain was trembling with absolute fury, which was only understandable. Not only had he recently lost the king, but he’d lost Bayard’s unborn child - the only link he’d had left - and it was very clear that he wanted nothing more than to kill Aulfric. If it wasn’t that they needed information that the man could give Arthur had a feeling Owain would’ve already killed him, but once they’d managed to glean all they could the blonde couldn’t be too sure Owain wouldn’t get his revenge. Arthur wouldn’t try to stop him if he did so.

“What about the person who infiltrated the castle pretending to be Sir Joffrey?” Merlin wanted to know, drawing Aulfric’s attention back to him. “Who was it? What did they want? Are they still in the castle?”

Aulfric was breathing heavily in terror. “I—I—.”

Merlin tilted his head, his grip on the bars tightening. “What is your master planning next, Aulfric?”

The man was trembling, just _staring_ at Merlin while shaking his head faintly.

“Why was Malcolm targeted by the Osgar Heir? What promise had he broken?” Merlin continued to bark out questions, ignoring the way Aulfric didn’t answer, merely shook his head. “You could not have been the one who cursed his room so _who_ did it? Was it whoever was pretending to be Joffrey or is there someone else here working for your master or at least assisting him?” He shook the bars fiercely, causing Aulfric to let a little sob. “Why was the magic muddled? Wh-?” He paused and tilted his head slightly, completely silent, before he raised an eyebrow, a strange expression on his face before he nodded softly and returned his attention back to Aulfric. “ **Who** is the ‘Cuckoo’, Aulfric?”

The man’s eyes widened in utter terror. “ **How** —-?”

Once again Merlin’s gaze lowered, seeming to be concentrating on something else. “Are you sure?”

“Sure of—-? How—-?” Aulfric squeaked.

“Very sure, Emrys,” Mordred responded without a shred of a doubt.

And that was when Arthur realized what had been happening, _why_ Mordred had been called and asked to join in on this meeting.

Nodding, Merlin pushed away from the bars yet didn’t look away from Aulfric. “Owain.”

“Yes?” Owain asked in a dark tone.

“This man assisted in the murder of not only your king, but his child, and as Bayard’s Consort, no matter if unofficial, you have a say in how this man meets his fate.”

Aulfric’s eyes were wide. “N-no—-p-please—-.”

And now _Owain’s_ presence during this meetings was understandable.

And yet the surprise on Owain’s face proved that he himself had not realized that. “But the queen—.”

“—-agrees with Emrys,” Mordred interrupted in a low tone. “Only you can share equally in her grief, Owain, and as she is too weak to take vengeance herself, only _you_ will she accept in her stead.”

There was silence as Owain stared at Mordred, clearly touched and battling all sorts of emotions, before he finally pushed away from the wall and went to Merlin’s side. He slipped out of his robe’s inner pocket a blade that had no doubt been given to him by Bayard due to the crest and the elegance of the design. 

Merlin took a step back, and another, and another. “So be it.” And with that he snapped his fingers, and within a blink Owain was now inside of the cell with Aulfric.

Arthur found himself moving to Merlin’s side, wrapping his arms around the cambion’s waist and leaning in as Owain stared at Aulfric with utter hatred before bellowing out a furious sound and descending on him. Merlin’s arms encircled Arthur, pulling him in closer, tightly, his grip proving he was more affected by the situation than he was allowing himself to show, and so was discreetly seeking comfort.

Only too willing to give it to him, Arthur settled himself against Merlin, urging in this new position for Merlin to curl into him from behind and stroke his stomach. Almost immediately Merlin shifted his face into Arthur’s neck with a groan, distracted, as the blonde had hoped he would be, no doubt imagining the feel of his cock jutting out from within. It was so incredibly arousing how Merlin reacted to just the thought, and it made Arthur even more desirous than he already was to have his mate’s true form inside of him. He loved Merlin, he loved his humanity, but if Arthur was being completely honest, Merlin’s true form made him weak at the knees. A part of him wanted to blame his knee-weakening attraction to the inhumanity to the Consort bond, but Arthur knew it was more to it than that. He had not been lying when he’d said that, had Merlin fucked him in that form their first night together, he would have quickly gotten over it - even if only due to the pleasure.

The more he thought about it, the more Arthur had to admit that while Merlin might be the demon in their relationship, Arthur was truly the twisted one out of the two. Merlin had his incubus heritage to blame for the darkness in him, what exactly did _Arthur_ have as an excuse? Nothing. And even worse - he really didn’t think he _needed_ an excuse. Not anymore at least. The last time he’d tried denying his true desires he’d lost Merlin, and once he’d gotten him back Arthur had found himself refusing to deny himself of what he wanted anymore. He wanted Merlin, he desired him greatly in his human form, _desperately_ in his true form, and, if he was being completely honest, he became incredibly aroused every single time he imagined what might change should Merlin’s draconic magic be loosed. Would it affect his true visage or would he have another side like he did with the human one?

Arthur rubbed himself back against Merlin’s cock at the very thought, effectively distracting the cambion even further as Owain and Aulfric struggled against each other inside of the cell. If it wasn’t for the fact that it might be a bit disrespectful to do so right now he would’ve already urged Merlin to take him. Honestly, Arthur knew how warped that made him, how numb and insensitive it might seem, but at the realization that Owain was avenging his murdered lover Arthur wanted nothing more than to have his own lover inside of him in a twisted form of self-assurance that _he_ had not lost Merlin and that his mate was home safe and sound.

Merlin’s touches against Arthur’s stomach became incredibly rough as he pushed in almost painfully, clearly displeased not to find a hint of himself there despite how impossible that would be given his cock was not only in its human form but still nestled inside of his trousers.

Owain was kicked against the bars but ducked the punch and slashed with his dagger before throwing himself back into the fight. No one tried to help him, they all allowed him the fight, the bruises, the screams and the fury. Had their own lovers been murdered they would have wished for the same, so they allowed him this while standing silent watch.

Finally, _finally_ , blood spurted and screams echoed throughout the dungeons. Owain’s heavy breathing was loud in the cell, his shoulders rising and falling with the force of his breaths as he stared down at Aulfric’s body. He closed his eyes tightly, his grip on his dagger trembling. “Bayard,” he rasped out. “Tonight, we begin to avenge you.”

Merlin bit deeply into Arthur’s neck, clearly to silence any sound of pain he would have otherwise made at those words.

The blonde took the abuse happily, groaning as he reached behind him to caress Merlin’s head comfortingly.

 

* * *

 

 

“Why do I feel as if you are awaiting my reproach?” Morgana asked softly as she sat up in bed, still incredibly pale and weak, yet still the strongest of them all emotionally. If it were ever in doubt, this went to show just how true it was. The young woman was sat up, and on her lap rested Owain’s sleeping face. She was brushing his hair, having soothed the crying boy until he’d fallen asleep, Owain still covered in blood and his own tears but she did not seem to care or even notice.

Merlin could barely look her in her face for the shame. “I failed you twice, My Queen. First I could not protect your husband, and then your _child_.”

Pain flittered over Morgana’s face, her gaze going to where Guinevere sat on Owain’s other side rubbing his shoulder, before she returned her gaze to Merlin. “Your magic protected _me_ both times, Merlin. I will forever mourn their losses, but I could never hate you, blame you.” She reached out with her other hand and grabbed Guinevere’s when the woman reached her own out to her. “You protected _Guinevere_. You protected Owain. You protected Mordred. You protected _Mercia_.” She took in a deep breath. “I’m alive right now because of you, Merlin. I am hurt, I am in mourning, but I will survive, thanks to you.”

He did not deserve that forgiveness when he’d failed so horribly as the kingdom’s - the monarchs’ - protector.

“I have been informed that I am being relieved of my duties as queen,” Morgana informed him after a moment’s silence.

Merlin looked up at that.

“They couldn’t have waited until you were stronger?” Arthur snapped.

She looked amused at his anger. “It’s war, Arthur, we don’t have time for that.” She then took in a deep breath. “In the end, I believe I am relieved.”

“I know _I_ am,” Guinevere whispered, clearly feeling guilty for saying that. “I know she could’ve been a great queen and ruler, but the dangers—I’ve nearly lost her _twice_ now.”

Morgana leaned over and rested their foreheads together.

“We should leave them to rest,” Mordred declared protectively. “I’ll make sure Owain gets back to his room safely.”

“Leave him,” Morgana whispered tenderly as she brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “After what he went through tonight he should not be alone.”

Guinevere nodded her agreement. “We will take care of him.”

A knock sounded on the door, and when Fionn popped his head in it was bowed, not daring to look up. “Ow—-.” He then realized Owain was asleep and his eyes went wide in panic before turning to Arthur. “I need _your_ help with the Swain.”

Arthur sighed, clearly resenting his Swain duties, yet nodded and got up, excusing himselfand pressing a kiss to Merlin’s lips before following after Fionn.

Merlin watched him go until the door closed, and then he sighed and turned to Morgana when there was another knock and he turned towards it once more as one of the guards outside opened it.

It was Sir Everclear. “Many apologies for the interruption, My Queen, but Lord Valiant would like to see the Grand Court Sorcerer.”

“What does _he_ want?” Mordred mumbled.

Sighing, Merlin motioned Mordred to stand down as he bowed to Morgana and followed after the older knight. The man did not seem to be worried or tense, merely apologetic for having interrupted, which was a good sign all things considered and left Merlin less tense when he was finally shown into Valiant’s room.

The man sat up in bed similar to how Morgana had been, still recuperating from the vast amount the demon had sucked from him. He looked better than Merlin had expected though, all things considered. “I’m surprised you came here without forming some sort of scandal, Merlin.”

“And give you the pleasure?” Merlin raised an eyebrow as he walked around the room, glancing around but giving the lounge chair and the mirrors his back when he finally turned to face the man.

“I will be made king of Mercia,” Valiant informed him. “As soon as I have gathered my strength enough to stand they will king me, after which I will order our troops to march forth and meet Camelot’s forces. We will use the added aggressiveness the upcoming dark moon grants us to our advantage and we will decimate the enemy.”

“We cannot count on Northumbria to help us any longer,” Merlin informed him, wondering whether he’d been told this or not because he sounded ridiculously assured of himself and of his plan. “We will be drastically outnumbered.”

“We have Caerleon, and we have dark magics,” Valiant replied immediately. “Once I am king you will perform the dark rituals that Bayard commissioned you do.”

Merlin’s eyes widened in horror. “Being so close to the dark moon while—.”

“If it drives us insane, we will turn that insanity on our enemies.” Valiant’s tone brokered no argument. “You _will_ do this, Merlin. As the King of Mercia I command it.”

“You seem to have forgotten that I have made no oath to you so I do not owe you any fealty,” Merlin declared very brashly and very stupidly. 

“I do not _need_ your oath, Merlin, not when you _need_ me,” Valiant declared in a darkly amused tone. “Or do you _not_ realize that any agreements made by Queen Morgana regarding Camelot or its future are now in _my_ hands to do with as I choose?” He tilted his head, his smile slow and vicious. “I could agree to honor her promise to leave Camelot as an independent realm, _or_ , I could point out the disadvantages such a compromise could bring which would affect Mercia as a whole.” He snickered. “So, if I were _you_ , I would start humbling myself a _little_ bit more in the future. You are no longer the King’s Pet, or the Queen’s friend, Merlin. There is no one wearing a crown who will protect you _or_ your pretty little Consort.”

Merlin could handle being threatened, but not _Arthur_. He should’ve acted with more thought yet at the clear menace in those words his body reacted before his mind could even catch up, and in seconds he was on that bed, grabbing the large man and shoving him face first down into the mattress, which muffled his yells. And then he took away the sound completely with his magic, which also kept Valiant completely pressed into the bed.

“I could kill you _right now_ if I wanted to,” Merlin commented emotionlessly as he watched Valiant struggling desperately against the invisible hold. “I could torture you for hours first, and no one would ever know.” He leaned down to whisper into the man’s ear. “I am _not_ the sorcerer you knew who was bound to Bayard’s orders or who was willing to put up with you in order not to cause Morgana more problems. I am _not_ the sort of person you want as your enemy, Valiant. Not when I can do all kinds of horrible things to you and make it impossible for you to tell anyone, to ask for help, can make it so you spend the rest of your life suffering all sorts of terrible things and being unable to do anything to stop it. Or I could just slice your neck right now and watch you bathe in your own blood the way I made you bathe in your own seed. You’re not the king yet, Valiant. And really… what would Mercia do to me if I killed you?” He chuckled darkly into that ear. “They _know_ they need me, need Excalibur, if they’re going to win. Do you _really_ think they’d do anything to me if I killed you _right now_?”

Valiant was struggling, he was probably screaming, but no sound would escape and his face was shoved into the bed so Merlin couldn’t even see what must be utter hatred and anger on that face, humiliation.

Furious at that, Merlin gripped the hair at the back of Valiant’s and yanked his head up viciously, arching his neck painfully, dangerously, the both of them knowing he could break it if he wanted. “You know the only time I enjoyed fucking you, Valiant? It was when you screamed in pain. Because I want to hurt you. I want to hurt you _so much_ I have to actively fight against the urge to tear you apart.” He tightened his grip on his hair. “I keep that at bay though, because for some reason my kingdom desires you as its king… but if you _ever_ dare even _hint_ anything might happen to Arthur…” He slammed his hand, and with it Valiant’s face, into the bed, completely cutting off any oxygen to him. 

Merlin pressed Valiant down much longer than needed, waiting right before Valiant passed out to pull him up long enough for him to get a desperate gulp of breath before doing it again, and again, and again, proving to the future king his words from before were true. He could kill him if he wanted to and there was _nothing_ he could do to stop it.

“For all your bulk, all your strength, your size, your height, your years of warrior training and experience in battle… you’re _helpless_ to stop me from doing whatever the _hell_ I want to do to you for however long I want to do it,” Merlin hissed in his ear as he suffocated Valiant into his bed once more, watching the man’s body twitching erratically from lack of oxygen. “You might become Mercia’s king, Valiant, but you will _never_ be my master. Nod your head if you’re still conscious enough understand that.” He felt the desperate nod under his touch and pulled him up enough so that he could breathe in reward. “Good.” He moved onto his knees on the bed and leaned in closer to whisper into that ear. “You are going to stop threatening Arthur, aren’t you, Valiant?” He tightened his grip on Valiant’s hair warningly as he pressed his lips closer. “ **Aren’t** you, you fucking **cunt**?” He felt a shiver race down Valiant’s body, and more hesitation, before the man finally, reluctantly, nodded. “You don’t speak to him unless it’s absolutely necessary, don’t say anything snide about him, don’t try to cause problems for him, don’t send your minions to bother him or make his life more difficult. Don’t even _look_ in his direction unless it’s absolutely _vital_ you do so.” His other hand rose and curled tightly around as much of that burly neck as he could, squeezing threateningly. “And while I’m at it, don’t you _dare_ punish Daegal for standing up to you when he did.”

Valiant tried to struggle, clearly already having plans regarding that.

The knowledge had Merlin squeezing tighter, choking the would-be king. “I gave you an order, Valiant. Be a good little bitch and fucking _acknowledge_ it.” He squeezed tighter, knowing he’d be leaving fingerprints all over that neck and not caring. “You’re going to be a gracious king and understand Daegal’s loyalty to the throne, aren’t you?” He ignored the man’s desperate twitching due to lack of oxygen “You’re not going to use the power of kingship to punish him, or anyone else who stood by Queen Morgana when you tried to rebel against her, or anyone from Camelot for that matter, _will_ you?”

Valiant shook his head desperately, or as much as he could given Merlin’s total grip on him.

Merlin softened his grip around that throat only just enough that the man could breathe, a _little_. “ _Now_ you seem to be getting it,” he praised into that ear. “Are you going to behave, Valiant?” When the man nodded rapidly he rewarded it by refraining from choking him yet kept his hand warningly at that throat. “Are you going to make trouble for Arthur?” Valiant shook his head rapidly. “ **Goooooood** ,” Merlin praised in that ear. “Maybe you’re not too dumb to learn like I thought you were. Maybe you just need to be **taught**.”

Valiant shivered.

“So let’s summarize this to keep it simple for someone like you,” Merlin declared patronizingly, provokingly. “Nod or shake your head as appropriate.” He reflexively tightened his fingers around that throat in soft warning before letting them rest loosely against the skin. “Are you going to behave from now on?” A quick nod. “Are you going to be a problem for me?” A rough shake. “How about for Arthur?” Another rough shake. “Mordred? Morgana?” More shakes. “Daegal?” A growl, but then a shake. Merlin glared and leaned in closer, tightening his grip. “I don’t think you were very sincere with that one, Valiant.” The shake was extremely quick this time, insistent. “Are you sure you _mean_ that and you’re not just trying to merely make me _believe_ it?” A nod this time, urgent. “Do you _understand_ what will happen to you, what I will _do_ to you, if you displease me, Valiant? Is it _abundantly_ clear?"

Valiant nodded and continued nodding without stop.

The demon in him wanted to kill Valiant, but Merlin held off, for now. But if Valiant made to move against Arthur he’d do it in a second, at his own coronation if need be.

With that dark resolution, Merlin shoved him away from him and got off of the bed, removing his magic from Valiant completely. He turned his back on the man, proving just how little he feared him, and left the room, his demonic side thrilled at having finally been able to show itself even if a little, while his humanity worried he may have just made an already bad situation worse.

* * *

 

Honestly, Arthur knew he was supposed to be one of the Swain’s mentors/trainers, and he should have _some_ faith in them, some _hope_ for them, but he really didn’t. How he saw it, these were Mercians who knew the only things useful about them was their looks, and they were trying to use said looks to elevate themselves in society. They thought those pretty faces could get them where they wanted to be, and that was just very wrong, not as in morally, more as in incorrect. They were going to be horribly unprepared if they continued this way, and to be honest, he didn’t feel sorry for them. At all.

“If what happened last night was enough to make you want to run for the hills, then _run_ ,” Arthur declared to the group gathered around him.

Fionn’s eyes widened in horror. “What are you—-?”

“The warriors fighting for this kingdom do _not_ need _cowards_ ,” Arthur announced, not at all repentant. “The Swain are expected to go _at the very least_ into the battle camps for their Masters, they’re supposed to be _assistance_ , they are _not_ supposed to be burdens.”

“B-But Prin—-!” Fionn clearly had not expected him to handle the situation this way and was close to a panic as he glanced between Arthur and the prospective Swain.

“No. If they want to turn tail and run at the first sign of danger it’s the best thing that could happen to us,” Arthur insisted with a snort at the group of surprised initiates. “We were _there_ , Fionn, we were fighting, we did _not_ give up. _We_ understand what it means to be what these _clearly_ do not.”

“W-wait a second!” That was Galvin. “We’re not s-saying we want to leave! We’re just—last night—we’re shaken! Okay! We just—we wanted some encourage or something!”

“I’m not your _mother_ , Galvin,” Arthur intoned mockingly. “If you all _still_ need someone to hold your hands _clearly_ you are not mature enough to be here and handle the responsibility you’ve training for. You stayed safely behind these walls while others went out to fight. You don’t have what it takes. You’ll let down your masters. You’ll be _useless_.” 

Clearly that had stung, and the fear and worry that had overtaken the group was now being very tempered by insult and anger. Good. Those were much more useful emotions.

“You need to be able to do _whatever_ has to be done if you are to be Swain,” Arthur declared, pushing on, glaring at them all. “If your master needs you to tend to his wounds - if he needs you to be his weapons’ carrier - if he needs you to mend his armor - if he needs you to suck him off while he’s shooting arrows down at the enemies or get on your knees to take him into your body while you’re hunkered down in the trenches. _Whatever_.” The anger and insult on their faces was slowly turning to surprise, embarrassment, and in many faces, uncomfortable arousal. This was the way to handle this group, apparently. Fionn’s soft touch would _not_ do, and honestly, Arthur was ill-equipped to do so. “You don’t seem to understand that if you do this, if you become Swain… Becoming a Swain is a fancy way of saying you’ll become your Master’s eager fuckhole. _That_ is what your purpose is going to be going forwards. It isn’t romantic, it isn’t noble, but it is _important_ and _necessary_. By staying here, by remaining in this residence, in this training program, you are accepting the fact that for the rest of your life you’re going to spend it with him buried inside of _some_ part of you.” He motioned to the gobsmacked squire next to him. “Ask _Fionn_ , Sir Cadman is _relentless._ He fucks him in the hallway, in the mess hall, in the armory, in the _outhouse_ , while awaiting his turn on the training ground… _And that_ is that it is times of war! In times of _peace_ …” He eyed Fionn, genuinely curious when he asked: “Do you _ever_ leave the bedroom?”

Fionn was flushing scarlet while shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Who says we make it to the bedroom? Sometimes it takes hours just to make it into the _house_ , and mostly then I have to _claw_ myself in.”

Loud gulps could be heard amongst the group. Some shifted. Some were gulping. Some looked utterly horrified. Most though, most were fixing the fronts of their trousers.

“As Swain your life is going to be a mixture of battling dangers while assisting your Master, and battling the growing need to tempt him back inside of you,” Arthur warned them truthfully. “The magic rituals you’re going to undergo will not only make him breaching you easier, but will make it excruciatingly pleasurable to the point where half of your job will be not purposefully distracting him by teasing him.” He raised an eyebrow. “I just saw a man being killed in one-to-one battle, and my only thought was whether it would be disrespectful to have my Master’s cock inside of me while it was happening.”

Fionn looked utterly relieved. “So that’s not just me.”

“No, it’s _not_ ," Arthur assured him before turning to the would-be Swain. “So I’m not going to hold your hands, I’m not going to coddle and tell you you are precious and need to be protected. This is the truth. I wouldn’t change what I am for the world - I fought _tooth and nail_ to become my Master’s Consort and I would kill _every single one of you_ without thinking it twice if I thought even _one_ of you might pose a threat to that.” He could see the shock on their faces and didn’t blame them. They didn’t understand the bond that came with the position. It was why he had to explain it to them as brutally as possible. Being a Consort, or a Swain, or any other magically bond pleasure giver, was not just sexual. It was very obviously sexual, but it came with a connection, a bond, that was hardly ever discussed, much less acknowledged, and which needed to be understood. It could not be taken lightly. “To be honest I think you all are getting what you will too easily, you’re not having to put any really effort into it like a Consort would have to. Sure, a Swain is a lower rank than a Consort, but you’re still just as well as being _handed it._ And that pisses me off. So if you want to back out, if you are only here for the prominence being a Swain will get you, _just leave_. **_No one_** is going to stop you.”

And with that he turned and left, leaving the door wide open as he did so.

No one followed.

 

* * *

 

_Merlin_

_I know you will never forgive me for what I have done, and in truth I do not intend to ask for forgiveness. If I was willing to kill my father to protect my kingdom you should not have been surprised that I would kill anyone else for the very same reason. My people, my kingdom, will always come first._

_Should you survive the upcoming battle, come to me - whether to kill or serve me matters not. I will be waiting for you with a blade and a kiss._

_Simon_

 

Crushing the note that he’d found in in his room, Merlin crumpled it in his hand tightly. He sighed, not even the sound of the door opening and closing with his mate’s return enough to truly raise his spirits. He hadn’t wanted to believe Simon capable of this, he hadn’t wanted him as an enemy, but the next time Merlin saw him he’d have to kill him for what he’d done.

“You are _very_ tense,” Arthur commented as he wrapped his arms around Merlin and pressed soft kisses to the tense spot between his shoulders. “What exactly happened after Fionn dragged me out of there?”

Merlin sighed and tossed the note onto the ground. “I was summoned by the future king.”

Arthur tensed immediately. “What did _he_ want?”

“To throw his change in position around and lord it over me,” Merlin mumbled before tensing even further. “I, of course, did something that will no doubt make the situation between us all a hundred times worse.”

“Oh boy.” Arthur pressed his forehead in between Merlin’s shoulder blades. “Alright, I’m ready, what did you do?”

“Nothing too serious, really.” Merlin covered his face with his hand in utter shame at his uncharacteristic lack of control. “I _might_ have just, I don’t know, not only threatened the future king’s life but actively degraded and tortured him.” He flinched, steeling himself for what was to come next. “But only _a lot_.”

There was silence, stillness, and then Arthur barked out a surprising laugh. “So he threatened me again, huh?”

Merlin removed his hand from his face, this being far from the scolding he’d thought he’d receive for having done something so stupid during such a precarious time as this. “Who said anything about you being threatened?”

“What a silly question, Master,” Arthur chuckled as he returned to pressing kisses to Merlin’s back. “You take all sorts of abuse silently if it’s aimed at _you.”_ He let his hands slip from around Merlin’s waist to lift the back of his shirt up much like Merlin had to him before. “The only reason you would have done something like that to Valiant was if he threatened _me_.” He slipped in under the shirt and ran his hands all over Merlin’s chest while scraping his teeth against Merlin’s back, biting down only to quickly remove his teeth and soothe the pain with his tongue, and then repeat the action, again, and again, and again, leaving claiming marks all over that pale back. “What did you do to him, Master?”

Merlin’s eyes were closed, enjoying the nails that left red marks all over his stomach the same way those teeth were his back. “Ox-oxygen deprivation.”

“You _choked_ him?” Arthur groaned throatily into his back while digging in his nails harder.

“And repeatedly smothered his face with his own mattress,” Merlin admitted sheepishly before suddenly realizing something was pressing into him from behind. “Mate…” 

“ _Hmmmm_?” Arthur was too busy leaving sloppy kisses all over his back to give him an actual, verbal reply.

“Did that get you erect?” Merlin teased, unable to believe it.

“Yeah, but only _a lot_.” Arthur cheekily threw his previous words back at him before he sighed and began to lap as Merlin with his tongue while lowering his hands to cup him through the material of his trousers. “Today, in the dungeons, I could hear you, you know, in your voice? The _real_ you.”

Merlin had nearly lost it at one point, it had taken all of his self-control not to shift as he’d faced the man responsible for Morgana’s child’s death - and even if only by association - that of King Bayard. “Yes. I am sure you did.”

“You _have_ to learn to control your shift, Merlin, and _fast_ ,” Arthur ordered breathily against his back. 

“I know,” Merlin agreed with a heavy sigh. If he went an lost his temper - especially with Valiant given all things considered - and he accidentally reverted back to—.

“I do not know how much of this cock teasing I can take,” Arthur grumbled moodily into his back.

Merlin blinked, his shocked laughter caught in his throat. “ _That_ is why I need to control my ability to shift?”

“ _Why else_?” He huffed sulkily.

Honestly. When was Arthur going to stop surprising him with how accepting he was of the monster Merlin truly was? Merlin loved him so much already it hurt, and yet each word Arthur said made him somehow love him more and more. How could greater love still exist? And yet Arthur made him reach a higher state with every word, touch, kiss. “I love you, Arthur Pendragon.”

He could feel the sulk leave Arthur as his lips curled in a smile. “Do you now?”

He grinned at this playful shift. “Yes, well, you’ve clearly worn me down.”

Arthur snickered in amusement at that. “Is _that_ what happened?”

“That sounds about right, yeah,” Merlin teased before sighing and stopping Arthur’s hands when he started to stroke him. “I’d love to, dearheart, but tonight I need to go over what Mordred was able to glean from Aulfric’s mind.” He turned in that embrace and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s forehead. “Save your energy, for I will have great need of you soon.”

Arthur’s arms wrapped around him once more. “Share your burdens, Merlin. Maybe talking about it out loud will help.”

“You need your rest.”

“ _You_ need to stop telling me what _I_ need.”

His lips twitched. “Yes, how dare I? It is not as if I am your _Master_ or any such thing.”

“ _Mer_ lin.”

He buried his smile into that golden hair, and, as per usual, yielded to his mate’s demands. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are mentions of past abuse in this chapter. These paragraphs have been left in bold for those who wish to skip.

“Four candidates snuck out and left with their things after everyone else went to sleep, what if this starts a mass exodus? What if we lose them all? King Bayard left us in charge of this and if we mess it up, especially so close to the dark moon——!” Fionn was pacing back and forth, back and forth, clearly close to having a nervous breakdown. 

“To be honest I expected to lose a couple after the attack,” Owain admitted, leaning forwards with his elbows on the desk, not really bothered by the four candidates’ loss. “I actually expected _more_ to leave, so if you ask me that wasn’t too bad,”

“But the ones remaining aren’t _doing_ anything!” Fionn squeaked as he turned to Owain in utter desperation. “They won’t go to their classes, no matter _what_ , and they won’t even come out of their rooms in protest!” He slammed his hands down on the desk while throwing his hand out to point to the one seated there. “They want an apology and _he_ won’t give it to them!”

On the side of the desk Arthur leaned back casually on the back legs of his chain, the front in the air, his own legs crossed at the ankles and rested on the desk comfortably. Arthur had spent the last couple of minutes with his arms crossed behind his head just _watching_ Fionn pacing a path in the ground without one shred of sympathy for the nervous breakdown the squire was clearly fighting. “Everything I told them was the truth, I am not going to apologize for not treating them like _porcelain_.”

Fionn turned a look on Owain, _clearly_ telling him to handle this.

Owain’s lips twitched, clearly feeling sorry for Fionn yet was also amused by just how frazzled he was by this. “Sorry, Fionn, but I do not think he _should_ apologize. From what I have heard, I most probably would have told them something similar. Maybe not so _brusquely_ , but that did not make what he said less true.”

The betrayal and horror was clear on Fionn’s face as he collapsed onto the seat next to him. “They will _not_ be ready for the dark moon if they do not attend to their classes!”

“Then that will prove that they are not made for this,” Arthur replied calmly from his very eased position. 

“But we _need_ them to be!” Fionn cried out before making a face. “Well, not _us_ , but…” He then surprised both Arthur and Owain by openly glaring at the blonde. “If I have to waste more time on those weaklings because _you are too proud to apologize_ —-!” He then growled and cried out in frustration as he covered his face and leaned back heavily against his chair. “Not _everyone_ has such an unshakable relationship as _you_ do with your Master, you know.” He glared at Arthur through his fingers. “ _Mine_ was a sex addict _long_ before he took part in his first dark ritual. If I do not constantly keep him too distracted with my body to notice anything or anyone else around us, if I leave him alone for too long, he _will_ search someone else out.”

Arthur blinked in utter surprise at he stared at Fionn, and then he grinned. “So _this_ is the _real_ you, Fionn.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I was wondering what exactly your thoughts and all of that were given we really do not have much to talk since you are either busy with your training, with the Swain’s training, or with your Master.”

Fionn pouted darkly at him. “I stole him from my cousin, you know, _believe_ me, I am _not_ going to let someone else do the same to _me_ just because these crybabies’ egos want to be stroked! Do you _really_ think I don’t agree with you two? I do! But I am not going to make this take longer than it _has_ to! Because as soon as they graduate I am retiring from this damned duty and making one of _them_ take over!”

Owain and Arthur shared shocked looks at this revelation, both biting their bottom lips to see the usually incredibly submissive and softly-spoken Fionn revealing his true - very well hidden - attitude. 

“I **agree** with what Prince Arthur said,” Fionn muttered sulkily. “I just would never actually **tell** them that! Because of **this** reason! They **understand** how important they are to our future plans, they **realize** they have leverage, they **will** use it until you give them what they want! So just **lie** and tell them what they want to hear!”

“Not going to happen,” Arthur assured him.

Fionn groaned in utter defeat and rested his forehead against the desk as he whined out: “O _wainnnnnnn_!”

Owain glanced between the two of them like a mother two her two warring children before setting his gaze on the prince. “Arthur, I am going to assume that you are so at ease because you have _something_ planned.”

Fionn grumbled muffled words into the desk.

Arthur’s lips twitched. “Yes. Owain. You may assume that.”

Fionn glanced up immediately, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What exactly do you have planned?”

Almost as if it had been _timed,_ the sounds could be heard in the Swain training ground. Arthur had _not_ planned it, he really had not, but the timing was really theatrical and he enjoyed the dramatic effect it had had as Fionn and Owain turned to look at each other in surprise. “ _That_ is what I have planned.”

Righting his chair, Arthur straightened his clothes and strode out of the office, noticing the sounds of movement inside of the Swains’ rooms, the ones on strike inside no doubt hurrying to their windows to peer out to see who exactly had given in. He snickered as he strolled down the building, Owain and Fionn at his heels, before emerging into the training ground, flinging his hand out to the group of young men currently pulling on the protective suits and wooden swords that the Swain had been using during their training. 

Owain paused in the doorway and laughed. “I _see_.”

Fionn peered over his shoulder and then smirked, finally seeming to be in a less sulky mood. “This could actually work.”

“Sorry we were a couple of minutes late,” Roarke apologized as he hurried forwards, his hand around a wooden sword. “We’ve had to agree to shift changes with the others, and there were some little last minute things we had to work through before we could come.”

“No problem, Roarke, you actually could not have timed it any better.” Arthur slapped his back encouragingly before his grin turned on the other servants, both temporary for the dark moon and permanent ones, stable boys, druids, and others who had always been around the castle yet had been overlooked when it had come to the advertising for the need of Swain. He’d gone to Roarke about the situation with the Swain, knowing that there had been many unattached lovers of the knights or lords who had not been happy with the Swain position being created - people Arthur felt deserved recognition more than the ones he was training did. He had not been surprised when Roarke had agreed to talk to the others in the castle, and had returned with the group before him. 

Not only were there lads from the castle, but some of the candidatesfor Swain who had been rejected from the first culling had stuck around, and Roarke must’ve known a couple of them because he’d reached out, and many of them were here as well for their second chance. These were the types of people they needed, fighters, those who didn’t give up at the first obstacle. They didn’t need the spoiled sons of knights, lords, or those too vain or simpering or, honestly, stupid. No. _These_ could be Swain he could train, could mold, _these_ were people he would not be wasting his time on.

“Welcome to all, and I want to apologize for how we wronged you by overlooking you during the first call despite the fact that you have all already proven yourselves in the past.” Arthur squeezed Roarke’s shoulder, able to feel the eyes of the Swain on them through the bedroom windows. 

“We’re going to be teaching you many different things but they can all be grouped into three different categories with each of us as the head instructor for each,” Owain declared, clearly taking control immediately as he eyed the large group listening to him with obvious eager attentiveness. “First category is physical training with Prince Arthur, which will be divided into different segments teaching you to fight hand to hand, with swords, arrows, and daggers. A good thing is that, while you may have only started the Swain training after the others, many of you actually have some training in swordplay, and many of you assisted us during the attack on our castle the other night. That already puts you ahead of the ones who have been in Swain from the beginning.”

A couple of the guys smiled and nudged each other at that, clearly encouraged - and enthused - by those words.

“The second category of lessons will delve into the more squirely duties you will be expected to perform, and your head instructor in this will be Fionn.” Owain motioned to Fionn, who was already moving through the group, visibly - and in some cases physically - sizing the newcomers up. “Things that will be taught to you are the upkeep and reparation of chainmail, armor, as well as the maintenance and cleaning of different weapons. You will learn how to hunt for game, make traps, mend torn clothes and tend to minor wounds. I recognize quite a couple of your faces and can attest to the fact that many of you have at least basic knowledge some of these things. Help the ones around you who do not know as much.” 

Nods greeted this immediately.

Owain continued on. “The third category - and I’m _very_ pleased to note that many of you are either already working in the castle, or are the sons or nephews of men who are currently manservants - will be courtly duties expected of the Swain.” He grinned, clearly happy with this as he turned to Arthur and nodded his approval before turning back to the group once more. “You will learn, amongst other things, how to be your Master’s eyes and ears in the Court, and how to behave during functions and such that he may take you on - as well as how to behave in foreign courts as you may be expected to travel with him when he is visiting allies or potential allies.”

Fionn continued weaving himself around the group, clearly not caring _who_ became Swain as long as there was _some_ progress and that they did not keep him far too long from his knight. He turned to Arthur and raised an eyebrow. “You heard him, he’s done, now let’s get your lessons started.”

Owain snickered. “Yes, lets.”

The Exiled Prince nodded. “Get into lines, pick up your swords, and hold them high. This first lesson will be for me to figure out exactly what your experience is with the blade and get a better idea where to actually start you all off in our next lesson.” 

Roarke hurried to go join one of the lines forming.

Arthur pulled out his sword - not Excalibur, his _old_ sword - and waited for the eager candidates to get in position.

_Let’s see how those spoiled twits act when they realize they are quickly losing their leverage, that they are_ ** _clearly_** _not as important as they seemed to have made themselves_.

Grin a little evil, Arthur started his lesson.

 

* * *

 

The days counting down to Valiant’s ceremony were going by quickly, and far too soon Bayard’s crown would sit on Valiant’s head. That was something that Merlin was trying to prepare himself for. It felt wrong, but to be honest, that crown on _anyone_ else’s head would’ve seemed sacrilegious. It was why Merlin kept his head down and finished crafting the smaller details of the rituals that Valiant had already let be known would be taking place after his coronation. With them as close to the dark moon as they were it seemed like utter folly, but Merlin had to admit that without the numbers Northumbria would’ve given them this might be their only choice. It was why he didn’t fight the order, and instead prepared for the rituals and tried to prepare for whatever the aftermath might be.

An owl had arrived from Gwaine, assuring Merlin that what he had asked of him previously had been done, and that was a little comfort at least. He’d thanked Gwaine in his own message back, keeping him abreast of the accelerated timeline, as well as Valiant’s soon new position in court. He doubted Gwaine’s answer to that news would be politically correct, and would most probably be some sort of rude comment on how Mercia must be desperate to put an actual ogre on the throne or something of the sort.

“But I do not _need_ assistance!” A frustrated voice huffed from somewhere under the window, drawing Merlin’s attention out of it to watch in intrigue as Mordred, half covered by some hanging vines, glared up at Lord Percival. He reached up on his tiptoes, trying to swipe at something unsuccessfully.

Percy merely lifted the heavy looking bag even higher up and very easily out of his reach. “You couldn’t even see where you were going. Why you were carrying around such a large, heavy bag of books is—-.”

“ _Not_ your business, Lord Percival,” Mordred grumbled before giving a little jump and trying for the bag, only to growl when Percy seemed to anticipate the action and easily lifted it higher and further out of the reach of his swipes. The druid grit his teeth and glared angrily up at the much larger man. “Are you _mocking_ me, Lord Percival?”

Frustration played over Percy’s face before he let out a heavy breath and smiled down at him. “I heard an interesting rumor.”

“I don’t care,” Mordred informed him immediately.

“A little birdie told me,” Percy continued on as if he hadn’t spoken, “that you have indicated an interest in joining the _Swain_.”

“Oh, a little _birdie_ told you, did he?” Mordred’s eyes were very narrowed, his whole body thrumming with his annoyance. “That _little birdie_ wouldn’t happen to be my big-mouthed half brother, would it?”

“I think we both know that being a _Consort_ would be a better title for you.” Percy raised an eyebrow.

A muscle jumped in Mordred’s cheek. “Only Lords or people in very high positions in the Court get Consorts, or become Consorts.”

“Yes, I know,” Percy agreed as he leaned in closer, resting his palm against the column behind Mordred and pinning the surprised druid back against it without actually touching him. “You _are_ the brother of the woman who was once our Queen, who is _still_ Queen until Valiant takes the throne. Why do you not value your own worth, little druid?”

There were storms in those angry blue eyes. “We fucked, Percival, because an _evil_ asshole made us _believe_ we were together. That is all. So I do not know _what_ this is - whether it is somesort of residue from that fabrication, or whether you feel oddly regretful and think you have to make it up to me - whatever it is, _stop_.” Mordred’s clenched fists shook at his sides. “I am _not_ in love with you, and _you_ are not in love with _me_. I am **not** your Consort. So _leave me the_ ** _hell_** _alone already_.” 

Percy’s answer was to raise the bag of books up high, and then let it fall to the ground with a booming THUD.

Mordred, being telekinetic and all, was just obviously so shocked at the action that he didn’t even try to stop their fall. His lips parted in absolute shock as he saw the books flowing out of the bag and on to the ground, and then he turned to Percy with a snarl and swung a fist, clearing about to punch him in the stomach, when Percy caught that hand by the wrist, not only stopping the punch, but bringing that hand to his cock.

The druid absolutely froze, eyes wide and the only things moving as they rose up to Percy’s face in utter shock, which only seemed to grow when Percy’s grip on his wrist effectively manipulated him into stroking him. “W-what are you—-?”

Percy leaned in, which must be painful to him due to just how much taller he was, whispering into Mordred’s ear as he continued to move Mordred’s hand over his cock, which was visibly tenting his trousers.

Lips parting, Mordred breathed heavily, eyes half closing as a flush began to creep up his neck at whatever Percy was whispering in his ear.He shivered and leaned back into the column yet didn’t fight his hand away from Percy’s grip. And then suddenly he shook his head, visibly pulled himself out of his near trance, and _kneed_ Percy in the balls.

Immediately Percy went down, clutching at his balls, but didn’t let go of Mordred, easily dragging him down with him. They landed in a mess of limbs and struggles and honestly, Percy was huge, but Mordred had magic on his side - he’d fought of multiple knights of Camelot on his own - so it was more than obvious that he wasn’t putting his all into the fight when he ended up pinned and nearly completely hidden under Percy’s body. His weight was being propped on his elbows and he was struggling, but, once again, this was a telekinetic telepath. There was _no way_ he was _legitimately_ trying to get out from under the larger man.

Lying completely on Mordred’s back, Percy wrapped his arms tightly around the druid’s chest, keeping him trapped under his body as he began to thrust his clothed lower body against Mordred’s ass. The Mercian lord returned to whispering into Mordred’s ear as he did so, one hand leaving Mordred’s chest so those large, meaty fingers could tease Mordred’s lips, brushing against them.

Despite still struggling, Mordred’s eyes were hazy, his expression twisted, conflicted, and then he not only parted his lips to grant them access, but flicked the tip of his tongue against those beseeching fingers.

Even from this distance Percy let out a ragged sound as his thrusts ground harder into Mordred seconds before three fingers slipped into his mouth, stretching those lips so wide around them as they thrusted into Mordred’s mouth that bits of saliva began to slip down the edges and trail down his cheeks. The druid groaned around the large fingers, his nails digging into the stone floor beneath them as he body was rocked by Percy’s rough ministrations. Whatever Percy was whispering into his ear had his eyes growing more and more disoriented, flickering slightly in magic, until he was bawling around Percy’s fingers.

The large Mercian let out a loud, choked, suffering sound as Mordred visibly came underneath him, and Percy followed soon after, whispering Mordred’s name over and over, causing the druid to groan around his fingers in response, his eyes closing, his face utterly content.

And then Mordred’s eyes flew open and he proved Merlin’s previous belief true by using his powers to very easily shove Percival off of him before running away.

Percy pushed himself up into a sitting position, watching the druid run away, the forlorn expression on his face quickly turning into self-anger as he curled his hand into a fist and brought it very roughly into the floor. He then shook his head and started to pick up Mordred’s books with obvious remorse for his previous treatment of them. 

“Mercia is _much_ more entertaining than the lake,” a voice declared behind him.

Merlin jolted in surprise and turned in time to see a pretty redhead leaning next to him on the windowsill, eyeing Percy with a little smirk on her face. “Lady of the Lake???” He’d worry she was a mere enchantment or Mesmer but he could _feel_ the same incredibly unique magical energy wafting off of her that he had during their first meeting. This was her. She was truly here. But _why_?

“Hello Dragon Heir,” she chuckled before returning her attention to Percival. “You know, your kingdom is full of handsome men, and I have been _starved_ of handsome men for centuries, but from what I have managed to get peeks of, they wouldn’t be interested in me in _this_ form.” The air around her shifted so it looked as if Merlin was watching her from the surface of the water, and by the time it disappeared she was, well, a _he_. He still wore the gown, and his hair was still long and up in a ponytail, but was very much a young man around Arthur’s age. “I am still _incredibly_ ravishing, even in this form, am I not?”

Tilting his head as he observed her, _him_ , Merlin found himself incredibly intrigued. He’d believed her either a manifestation of Excalibur, or a water spirit guardian, and yet neither actually seemed to be the case. “I have never seen someone change sex before. Form? Yes. But never gender.” He eyed the redhead up and down. “Should I call you _Lord_ of the Lake, now?”

“I _would_ have said yes to that if it weren’t for your mate,” the redhead mumbled with pursed lips, clearly in a pout. “He keeps calling me Lady of Random Places, it’s _insulting_.” Those eyes rolled. “So, I suppose, you may call me… _Bors_ … The Younger.” Those lips twitched. “I used to be known as Lord Bors whenever I would take this male form, but that one was much older looking so, yes, Bors the Younger, it has a nice sound to it, doesn’t it?”

Merlin eyed the redhead curiously. “Are you planning on… staying… in Mercia, La—- _Bors_?”

“I protect the sword, and the soul - this time _two_ \- bound to it.” A red eyebrow raised. “Where _else_ would I be?” Those lips twitched in amusement as Bors’ gaze shifted to where the knights were headed towards the training ground. “Plus, Mercians are _beefcakes_.”

He’d never heard that expression before, but figured it was supposed to be a compliment. “How exactly are we to explain your presence without people worrying you are a spy?”

“If the sword is here I will be fine,” Bors assured him. “No one - other than you and your mate, of course - will ever even know I was not always here.” He ran lean fingers through his hair, shortening the long tresses to jaw-length ones instead yet still kept on the dress. “I have not had a male form in very long time, I will have to get used to things again.” He grabbed his crotch in explanation and gave it a little shake before returning his gaze to the men outside and grinning. “The fun part of the male form is, unlike the female one, you get to choose your position in sex. I’ve been both the receiver and the giver in this form before, and both have their own unique pleasures.” Grin toothy, Bors slanted a look in Merlin’s direction. “I have decided I will help train the Swain. Your mate has no patience with them, and to be honest, those three are _not_ thinking of the _utter_ potential which has been presented in this situation.”

“And how exactly are you going to work with the Swain given you were _not_ appointed by Bayard to do so?” Merlin wanted to know.

Bors rolled his eyes. “That will not be a problem.”

Merlin leaned against the window frame once more and eyed him. “Are you going to keep wearing your dress? Not that it bothers me, I think you look very lovely with it. I am just curious, as you will have to get more dresses if you want to blend in.” He tilted his head. “I know of a tailor who could help.”

“I do look good in this dress so I will probably take you up on that offer later,” Bors agreed with a smirk. “But right now a dress is not exactly _convenient_. Male clothes allow for a better range of movement.” He returned his gaze out of the window at the knights. “I see Arthur is not there with them, I’m assuming he’s either with the Swain or training with Excalibur somewhere. If he’s not doing one of those three things he’s usually by your side.” He grinned. “Excalibur is slowly warming up to him, and it is clear that he is getting better and better at wielding it. I am sure that he will soon have no issue with it. And that’s a good thing, because the way the people of Mercia are talking about you and him with such reverence it would _really_ dampen their idolatrous fervor if he was… unable to _perform_ in front of them.”

“How long have you been watching us without our knowledge?” Merlin wanted to know curiously.

“I get distracted now and then, but to be honest, there’s _a lot_ going on in this castle so close to the dark moon.” Bors leaned into Merlin, voice low as if sharing a monumental secret. “If you ask me, you should all charge into battle naked. Thousands of screaming, blood-thirsty, _incredibly_ aroused men charging at them will no doubt _terrify_ Camelot into retreating.”

A snort of laughter escaped Merlin at the imagery. “It very well might!” He rubbed the amused tears from his eyes before he finally looked down at Bors in intrigue. “Can I ask you something and you not be offended?”

“It depends on whether the question is offensive or not,” Bors answered as his gaze shifted back out of the window. “Is the question offensive?”

“I do not know,” Merlin admitted, and then decided to ask it anyway. “What exactly _are_ you, Lady, Lord, Bors - and how are you connected to Excalibur? To my family? And now, to us? Why is the sword, and Arthur and I, yours to protect?”

“You _said_ something, _that_ is more than _one_ thing,” Bors mumbled yet did not seem offended as his blue gaze shifted to Merlin once more. “Pick one.”

Merlin took in a deep breath. “What are you?”

Bors eyed him curiously before a sad little smile touched his face. “I suppose, I am like you, Dragon Heir, or at least once, I was when I lived.” He let out a deep sigh. “A Demon with the soul of a Dragon, although _my_ demonic heritage was not one such as yours, one derived from pleasure, _my_ father would drag women and children under the water and devour them. I believe my mother only survived because of her draconic ancestry.” His face went expressionless. “She loved me until I was eight, when I first changed my form, betraying I was his son more than her daughter. My aunt raised me after that and taught me to accept what my mother could not.” 

Merlin’s eyes widened in shock, realizing what Bors wasn’t saying: he - she - it - they - _Bors_ was one of his _ancestors_. Bors was a Dragonlord! No _wonder_ he had been so furious when he’d discovered what had been done to Merlin! If there was anyone in this world who might have been able to understand Merlin, it was _Bors_. “What was your name?”

Bors glanced away from him. “My mother used to call me Sophia. She never did again after that day.”

While there was so many questions he wanted to ask, Merlin kept them to himself, at least for now. He instead reached out and placed a hand on Bors’ shoulder.

“You should have asked me a less depressing question,” Bors sighed before his gaze shifted to the men training below. “Then again, I suppose, given the mystery of your dead knight, the ability to shape shift _would_ intrigue you.” He rested his chin on his hands and sighed, a small smile curving his lips. “Life here is going to be _much_ more interesting than life at the lake.”

Amused, Merlin turned his gaze to the men down there and felt a little sorry for them. The Knights had _no_ idea what was going to hit them.

 

* * *

 

 

The Swain had had no idea what had hit them.

To be honest, Mercia did not know.

It would seem only Arthur and Merlin knew, and that was probably only thanks to their connection to the Dragonblade which allowed them to realize that the Lady of the Lake - _Bors_ \- had not always been a part of the Mercian Court as ‘Lancelot’s kinsman’ (according to Bors, Lancelot - greatly rumored to be part fae - was the only Mercian handsome enough to pull off being his blood relative so that was why he’d chosen to make him his ‘blood link’ to the Mercian Court).

Honestly, while Arthur had been surprised to find Bors chatting to Merlin in his tower, he’d known who it was immediately (he _had_ been wearing that same dress after all) and he’d accepted the situation with less questions than Merlin, apparently. Bors had proven himself a useful ally in the past, and he not only helped by giving Arthur vague hints on how better to handle Excalibur, but had seemed to _throw_ himself into assisting with Swain duties - and if Arthur was being honest, it was the latter that won him over completely to this new situation. 

While Arthur’s plan to show the Swain they were not all-important had worked - and after about the second day of strike the original candidates had quietly joined the newcomers for their classes, clearly humbled by the experience - it was really Bors’ classes that had brought them back around completely.

Then again, Bors was - very obviously - a pervert, as was evidenced quite obviously by the ‘fourth’ category he’d convinced everyone in the Mercian Court had been one Bayard had appointed him to teach the Swain. _Then again_ , given the fact that his classes very quickly became everyone’s favorite, maybe Bors was just very Mercian.

“Yes, I _know_ they will take a bit to get used to, but even with magic making penetration easier many of you are _still_ going to have issues with it due to the fact that Mercians seem to be larger than average - which I think might be a fault of the dark magics channeling the more masculine, dark, animalistic in them,” Bors declared as he paced back and forth in the front of the classroom like a general commanding his army.“That is why it is important that you get used to the feeling of doing things with plugs inside of your bodies. It will be a bit uncomfortable, but it will definitely assist you in the long run.” He turned to face the squirming class and leaned against the table, lopping his legs in a way that betrayed how many years he’d been in female form. “Unlike _me_ , you all do _not_ have the specific sort of fae blood in you able to help you change your form.” His visage blurred, as if being seen through a thin layer of water, and then he was Sophia, her lips quirked in a smirk and her clothes a little big on her but not by much, her voice lighter yet still held the same authority and command she wielded over the swain while in her male form. “I hold an advantage over _all_ of you as I can not only change my exterior appearance between that of my lover’s preference…” She unlopped her legs and sat straddled over the desk. “But I can also give him _variety,_ even if I am Bors at the time.”

Utter fascination and some jealousy flittered over their faces at this revelation.

Arthur, not having realized Bors’/Sophia’s shapeshifting abilities were apparently common knowledge, just blinked at that.

“You all will have to compensate, don’t think that just because you do the bonding ritual you’re the perfect Swain. You _have_ to listen to those three, because they are _exemplary_ role models to follow and you’d be _fools_ to think that your looks and body alone will get you anywhere.” Somehow, Sophia/Bors could get away with saying the things that got Arthur in trouble with the Swain, and the blonde was realizing that it _might_ be his brusque delivery of those truths (like Fionn had pointed out) versus Sophia’s ‘let me help you’ way. “You will have to learn to be cunning like Owain, shameless like Fionn, and hellishly determined like Arthur. I’m going to hit you with some truths now, boys, so listen very closely.” She leaned forwards, and the class instinctively did so as well.“I’ve pleasured men in every form and in every way imaginable given my ability to shift between forms and - _merge_ \- them.” She smirked. “I _want_ to help you, I _want_ to teach you _all_ the ways you can not only get your Master, but keep him so deliriously pleasured that he’ll _never_ leave you for a prettier, newer model.”

The Swain all exchanged both shocked and horrified looks, clearly not having even considered the fact that they could be replaced.

“But I **need** you to pay very close attention to everything we teach you, and you **need** to do as we say,” Sophia declared as she shifted, once more, returning to her Bors shape. “If you do not and merely try to coast through to graduation on your pretty faces alone you’ll not only _not_ become a _companion,_ a _helpmate -_ you’ll just become a _whore_. Because _that_ is what you’ll be otherwise. We don’t want you to be an interchangeable member of a harem who is solely used for sex, we want to ensure you and your Masters develop a bond, a relationship, a connection stronger than just their need to release the darkness welling up inside of them.” Bors leaned backon his hands and lopped his legs once more. “Maybe the thought of being a whore is appealing to some of you, but for those who actually _want_ to be important to the Master they’ll be serving - and _not_ be treated as if he were disposable - I would advise you, for your _own_ good, to pay _very_ close attention to our lessons and take them to heart.”

Arthur could see the looks on the Swains’ faces, and he traded relieved glances with Fionn at the realization that they were finally getting the weight behind their positions.

A hand shot up from the class.

“Yes, Finnegan?” Bors wanted to know.

“I-is this _su-supposed_ to be _tickling_ me?” Finnegan’s voice was breathy, strained, and now that Arthur looked at him, he could tell the blonde was subtly rocking his hips against his seat. “It _is_ a little tight but, uh…”

“Right, thank you for bringing that up, I _knew_ I was forgetting something,” Bors chuckled. “The plugs you are using not only act as a way to keep you stretched, but as a stimulant. Every one of you have a prostate gland inside of you which give great pleasure when touched, and these specific sorts of plugs are meant to lightly massage that gland. They will tease you distractingly yet not be enough for you to actually find release, and will actually continue to build and build with no relief. _That_ is where the rings - and in some of your cases _cages_ \- that were fastened to you while you were limp come in.” Bors raised an eyebrow. “Ask these two right here.” He motioned to Arthur and Fionn. “Once you become magically bonded to someone else the desire you feel is overwhelming and distracting. And from what I’ve been able to see, they get all their pleasure from being used, if anyone reaches for their cock it’s their Master. That shows that either they do not even consider their cocks anymore, or it isn’t pleasurable to them anymore unless their Master is stroking it, or something of the sort.”

“It’s a bit of both, actually,” Fionn explained, the version of himself  in the reality where Bors was a part of the court much more relaxed than his otherwise nervous or cranky self. “You _can_ reach climax on your own, but to be honest it doesn’t help with your mounting pleasure, in fact, it makes the torture worse. The only way you can actually get some relief for it is through your Master.”

The Swain all shared wide-eyed looks at these revelations.

Arthur honestly wanted to know just _how_ long Bors had unknowingly been watching him and Merlin (and the Mercian Court) screw. But when Bors had come to him asking how to best emulate the actual _emotional_ response to being claimed he’d realized that he honestly didn’t care as long as he was being this helpful. The mentors had all brainstormed and this had been the best idea they could come up with, and while Arthur knew that what the Swain were feeling right now wasn’t even _close_ to what it felt like being untouched by your Master after a certain amount of time, it would at least give them an _idea_. 

The prince took in a deep breath and nodded. “That is why you will be continuing your studies, your training, with those plugs remaining within you. You can easily learn to do things perfectly without them but then you’ll fail once the pleasure distracts to oblivion.”

Galvin’s hand went up.

“Yes, Galvin?” Arthur asked.

The merchant’s son’s face was flushed already, and he was also moving his hips subtly. “A-are you saying it’s like this for you _all_ the time, Prince Arthur? That you were able to do your duties, and _fight_ , with this f-feeling distracting you like this?”

Fionn scoffed in derision at the question. “Whatever you’re feeling isn’t even _close_ to what _he_ feels constantly. Consorts are the highest possible tier our type of service can hope to aspire towards so their strain is even greater than the rest of ours, and not only that, but their physical response is influenced by the power of their master, _and_ by the strength of their emotional connection. Prince Arthur belongs to the Grand Court Sorcerer who, if we are being completely honest, is the most important, most powerful - most _vital -_ person in our kingdom.” He leaned his hip against the table and folded his arms over his chest. “Do you not know what the Court, what the _other_ Consorts, call Prince Arthur? He’s known as the ‘Ultimate Consort'. He has managed to not only quench his Master’s overwhelming desire, but has reached the pinnacle of what any of us can ever _hope_ to achieve - he has earned his Master’s _complete_ and _utter_ adoration. Not just sexual, but emotional as well.” There was some clear jealousy in that tone as he said that. “So while he may be very brusque in his manner of teaching, you would do good to listen to what he has to say and _learn_ from him.”

The Swains’ eyes all widened as they turned to look at Arthur in a completely different light, which really made him uncomfortable. 

Owain shared smirks with Bors.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Bors, get back to teaching your class.”

Bors’ lips twitched in amusement before his gaze returned to the Swain. “Today, class, we’re going to discuss - in great length and _very_ gratuitous detail, as always - today’s kink, which is _very_ close to my heart.” Amusement and hellish delight lit those eyes. “ _Water sports_.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Does this sort of thing not bother him?” Merlin asked as he looked over at the corner of the infirmary, where a small, special cot had been constructed, was covered with multiple toys, and barely contained a comically positioned sleeping boy. 

Ever since Cassius and Lancelot had gotten their son back from where he’d been safe inside of the Swain Residence and thus not a part of the delusion that they’d been under themselves - one or the other kept him in their sights at all times. It was usually Cassius, since, as the Court Physician, he was mostly within the infirmary, but Lancelot had been seen backing Lucan around on his shoulders much more than usual ever since.

“I worried about that at first,” Cassius admitted with a tender smile towards his son. “But he’s apparently very used to the sight of the dead by now. He doesn’t react to them anymore, except to comment on how ‘ugly’ they are.” The man sighed. “He made me ‘pretty’ up one or two of them because they were just ‘too ugly’ and ‘must feel bad about it’.” He raised an eyebrow raised. “Imagine me trying to explain the bows in their hair and their painted faces to the people who came to the Infirmary.”

Snorting in amusement, Merlin hung his head, hoping the older man would not be able to see the utter glee the image had provoked in him.

“It is _not_ funny, Merlin!” Cassius hissed in traumatized horror. “I am _sure_ there are still a few of the Court convinced that I tup corpses!”

Covering his face with his hands, Merlin laughed, unable to hold it in any longer. He tried to imagine the looks on those Courtiers’ faces when they came into the infirmary only to find the Court Physician applying rogue to the deceased’s cheeks. 

The pout was obvious in his tone when he muttered: “Why are we friends again, Merlin? I am finding it hard to remember right now.”

He continued to laugh, unable to stop himself.

A huff echoed around the room. “If the _Grand Court Sorcerer_ would be _so kind_  as to get a hold of himself, I would like to tell him what I found.”

It was important, he knew it, and yet Merlin still found it hard to try and taper off his laughter. He straightened as best he could, one arm still around his stomach, one hand brushing away the tears of laughter that’d welled in his eyes. “I—I apologize Ca-Cassius. I will do my best to ma-make sure the Court are assured you will not de-defile their bodies should they d-d—!” He snickered, unable to stop himself, and then tried again, fighting his face straight once more as he took in a very deep breath.

“Are you done?” Cassius grumbled despite the reluctant smile twitching the ends of the lips he had pressed in a grim line.

Taking in another deep, fortifying breath, Merlin breathed in, out, in, out, and then slowly nodded, infernal mirth under control. “Please, proceed.”

Rolling his eyes, Cassius cleared his throat as he motioned down to Joffrey’s remains between them. “As I was _saying_ before you interrupted me, I went back over him after you pulled me aside to discuss your theory.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I want to say that I did not find what you asked me to look for—.”

“You found it,” Merlin whispered, all mirth completely gone now.

Nodding, Cassius beckoned Merlin over around to his side of the examination table with a curl of his fingers, waiting for him to do so before using his magic to levitate and turn the body face down. “It would’ve been impossible to notice without actually _looking_ for it, not with so long having passed, as well as the state of the body itself. And yet… knowing what to look for…” He grabbed Merlin’s hand and brought it to the curve at the back of Joffrey’s neck that started rounding up to the back of his head. “It should be right… _here_.” Cassius pressed Merlin’s fingers inwards with his own. “Do you feel it?”

Completely serious, Merlin nodded, able to feel it incredibly faintly, yet it was _there_. “So, I was right.”

“I wish you weren’t,” Cassius admitted as he drew his hand back. “I still do not even understand how you even thought of this possibility. There haven’t been cases of this recorded for at _least_ a hundred years.”

Merlin went towards the other dead body in the Infirmary. “It was something Mordred picked up in Aulfric’s mind. It really kept going over and over and over in my mind, and I couldn’t sleep, haven’t been able to sleep, since he picked up that word. And then Bors said something that went over my head at that moment, but later that night it came to me and I needed to be sure.”

“Bors isn’t—-,” Cassius started immediately, protectively.

“I know. They cannot shift as seamlessly as he can, cannot shift without—-I _know_ it is not him.” Merlin ran a hand down his face, tiredly. “But whoever took Joffrey’s place was definitely a changeling.” He let out a deep breath. “That means that the fae are involved in this somehow, are helping Camelot or its sorcerer.”

“As if we did not have enough problems to worry about,” Cassius groaned. “It seems as if, very slowly yet surely, we are discovering everyone is against us.” He leaned heavily against the wall. “Is there a way to discover whether someone is a changeling or not? Because have we have a castle _full_ of suspects.”

Merlin nodded that yes, they did, but knew his expression betrayed it would not be as easily as saying a spell. “I must brew a potion - it will take some days - and then we need to give it to _everyone_ in the castle and have them consume it. How in the world will I be able to not only make sure they all drink the potion and yet have them in sight so that I may be able to—-?”

“How many days will it take to be brewed?” Cassius wanted to know, eyes widening as an idea clearly took root. “Will it be ready within a week?”

Eyes widening as well, Merlin grinned. “I think I can make it in a week, yes.”

The men smiled darkly at each other.

They were going to administer the potion to the drinks at Valiant’s coronation, and when the castle raised their goblets in the obligatory drink to the new king, they’d be able to find out just how infested their kingdom might have become.

 

* * *

 

Arthur knew he wasn’t the normal Consort. He knew it. Merlin knew it. The whole Mercian Court knew it. Because of this he was treated differently from the others, he was not only used to it but expected it and gloried in it. It was obvious in the way that not only the other Consorts or sexual partners of the Courtiers treated him, but theirs Masters as well. It was obvious in the way that he was being consulted on not only anything to do with the Swain, but with the Knights. It was obvious in the way the plan he’d proposed the other day was discreetly being implemented.

And yet, never had it been more obvious than right _now_.

Sir Xavier cleared his throat and tried once more. “I would like your permission for the Grand Court Sorcerer to tup my squire.”

Arthur eyed the older knight in thought before asking: “ _Why_?”

“Well, if I’m being honest, I enjoy watching him being taken by others, it’s a singular joy I thrill in, and as he only recently made squire I promised him a special reward,” Sir Xavier explained dutifully, looking a little sheepish.“And, as you are the one who decides who the Grand Court Sorcerer tups, I have come to ask your permission.”

Eyeing the other knight, Arthur kept his expression neutral, not betraying his fascination with the situation. “I will consider it.”

“Thank you, Prince Arthur,” Sir Xavier bowed and left.

Warriors _never_ asked Consorts for permission regarding their Masters’ sexual escapades, and yet Sir Xavier was the ninth one to do so ever since Arthur had not only declared his rulership over Merlin’s body, but Merlin had so heartily agreed it. Sir Ethan had been the very first one to do so, which, given what Simon had shown Arthur, really should not have surprised him as much as it had. He’d figured it was a fluke, was Sir Ethan being Sir Ethan, but then more and more and more of the men of Mercia had approached Arthur and respectfully sought his permission. They were treating Arthur as if _he_ were Merlin’s Master, and he honestly was flummoxed by the whole thing.

Oddly enough, he flashed back to the merchant’s wife luring back young men into the marriage bed so the husband could have his fill. 

‘ _To see his pleasure it to feel it myself.’_ The wife had shivered as a flush arousal climbed up his neck.

A little part of Arthur understood that, considering every time he remembered Leon being so incredibly tight he’d had to come up behind him and forcefully lower him down onto Merlin’s cock, assisting his mate in the penetration, he got slightly hard. 

Despite this he had no intention of accepting any of the offers that made been made, Merlin did not need to feed especially deeply _as yet,_ and when it came time for that to happen _Arthur_ would choose who and would make the appropriate actions. He’d approach whoever it was, and their Master, if they had one. This was going to be on _his_ terms, and not only did Merlin accept and agree to that, but clearly the whole Mercian Court had as well.

Smiling, Arthur continued on his way, in a very good mood.

 

* * *

 

 “You told Lord Valiant not to take his revenge on me.”

Merlin turned around at the surprised voice and blinked when he saw Daegal standing behind him in the hallway. “How did you find out?”

“ _He_ told me,” Daegal admitted as he gripped his arm and shifted his weight on his feet. “I’ve been waiting for him to—so I went to him and told him I wasn’t going to run away anymore so he should just take revenge on me for not choosing his side during his attempted usurpation- and then he told me that while I more than deserved everything he wanted to do to me that - that - that you had agreed to acknowledge his kingship and work besides him in this war in return for certain conditions, one of which was that he was not to hurt me or let anyone else do so either in his name. He said that your public acknowledgement of his position would be more beneficial for him in the eyes of the Court than his avenging his own bruised ego.”

While Merlin had never exactly _said_ he’d acknowledge Valiant as king in return for that he could understand the assumption, and really, what else could he do? 

“Why would you do that?” Daegal asked in utter confusion. “You and him have a bad relationship _as is_ , so why would you make it even that more uncomfortable to protect me? I—I do not understand. What do you get out of this?” 

Sighing, Merlin moved towards the druid and placed his hand on his shoulder. “I consider us friends, Daegal,” he informed the surprised druid. “And I look after my friends.”

“Friends.” Daegal mulled on the word before his lips twitched.

“You can never have too many of them, especially not in times of war,” Merlin assured him with a small smile.

The druid smiled up at him and nodded. “I agree.”

 

* * *

 

 

**The first time Merlin’s ‘true self’ appeared was less than a month after his parents’ deaths. Even in his dulled, blanked state, he’d seen the look of horror that had overtaken Tauren’s expression. He’d shoved him away, for the first time unwilling to touch him, and had used his magic to fling Merlin into the room he’d been given for appearances sake, locking him inside. For three full days he only peered into the room once, always at sunset, and when he’d see Merlin’s true form he’d lock the door behind him once more. There was no food, no water, nothing until he ‘stopped misbehaving’.**

**Merlin spent those days kneeling in front of the mirror, staring numbly at his reflection, face blank, body heavy, but disgust and fear churning somewhere very deep inside. He’d seen a monster like this before in the woman who’d killed his father, and the fact that he had eyes like hers was terrifying. Was he a monster too? Was he the reason his father had been killed and his mother—?**

**After the fifth day he was so weak he could only lay down on his side, curled on the floor, staring at the monster staring back at him. He’d blacked out some time around then, and when he’d awoken it had been to water being forced into his mouth - down his throat -by the lips on his. He’d been too thirsty, too weak, to do anything but drink, and then his gaze had shifted towards the mirror, showing his human reflection once more, but that could not hide what he now knew about himself.**

**Deep down inside he knew what he was.**

**“So, you know the truth now,” Tauren whispered darkly in his ear. “You know why your parents were murdered - it was all your fault, Merlin - because you are a monster your presence drew another of your kind. You’re the reason your father died screaming, begging, like a coward, and why Hunith—.” His hands were already working on untying the strings holding up his own pants. “At least they did not have to live long knowing what sort of beast they’d been raising - a changeling is what you are, Merlin - their true child was stolen away while the grotesque creature impersonating him was left in his stead.”**

**Merlin found himself on his back, staring at his reflection numbly even as his own pants were being impatiently torn from him.**

**“If anyone knew they would throw you to the wolves,” Tauren whispered as he leaned over him, settling between his thighs. “How lucky you are, little beast, that I loved your parents enough to see passed your deformities - your hideous visage.” He worked himself inside until he finally bottomed out with a groan, face twisted in pleasure. “Now show your gratitude, little fiend, for the only reason you still live.” And then he’d started moving.**

**As Merlin’s body rocked against the floor with each thrust, he stared numbly into the mirror at his own reflection.**

**At a monster.**

**It was a monster that would continue to show itself for the next couple of months, the appearance of which would always drive Tauren to lock him away in that dark room, to starve the creature into disappearing, and only once it was gone, once it was too weak to show itself, would Tauren return to berate Merlin for his misbehavior, for his ungratefulness, for being such an abomination. He’d thrust into Merlin roughly, desperately, while hissing to him all the things that people would do should they know what he was, the scorn and revulsion he’d no doubt face. Before Merlin’s true self had appeared Tauren would say he loved him, but not now, not afterwards, because not even Tauren could love such an aberration.**

**Little by little Merlin was able to hide the monster, because every time it appeared he ended up in darkness, hungry, thirsty, staring at the hideous thing staring back at him. It became second nature, with the days of him passing out from hunger, from thirst, from utter weakness becoming less and less frequent until finally the human disguise fixed itself on him.**

**And yet, no matter how well he might be able to mingle with the humans Tauren was right. He might look like one of them but he wasn’t, he was evil, he’d gotten his parents killed, he’d get more people killed. No one would ever be able to love a monster like him, how could they, when he himself despised himself so terribly?**

**The only thing, other than the numbness, that Merlin felt for a little over a year, was utter self-loathing.**

**…**

**…**

**…**

Sitting on the floor, bathed almost completely in the darkness of his bedroom, Merlin stared at the reflection faintly visible in the mirror in front of him. He’d awoken from those memories ill as usual, but this time he’d put down the waste bin to find those demonic sigils all over his skin, betraying to him that he’d shifted, whether from the memories or his intense reaction to them he wasn’t sure. He’d looked back towards Arthur, sleeping peacefully in bed, and no matter how many times Arthur told him he loved this form there was still a part of Merlin that was terrified every time it appeared. He didn’t want Arthur to wake up and find himself sleeping next to this thing.

It was most probably fueled by his memories, but Merlin found himself assuming the position he had for so long, staring at the demon, at the creature. The realization that changelings might be in Mercia was most definitely what had brought on this memory. Merlin had been accused of being that more than once, and he’d truly believed it until Bayard had rescued him, had explained that his father was a cambion, and that the monster inside of him was due to that, that it was inherited, that he hadn’t been a grotesque thing exchanged for the real Merlin - that he wasn’t the cause for what had happened to his parents.

Even then, though, a very deep part of him, one he guarded in terror, still didn’t believe those words sometimes.

The bed creaked, and then floorboards sounded softly, drawing nearer, before Arthur could be seen in the dark reflection of the mirror, face twisted in worry as he hesitated for a second before coming to sit down next to him, securing the blanket he’d kept wrapped around him around Merlin as well. 

Arthur pressed a kiss to Merlin’s shoulder before resting his head against it and meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Bad dreams?”

Nodding, Merlin tried for a smile but it felt pathetic even to him. “Sorry for waking you up, I tried my best not to make any noise this time. You have been so busy these last couple of days — you need—.”

“Stop telling me what I need,” Arthur whispered softly as he snuggled in closer and wrapped his arms around Merlin’s waist. “Do you want to talk about whatever gave you the bad dreams?” He hesitated. “Or about the bad dreams themselves?”

“ _Not really_ ,” Merlin admitted hoarsely, softly, hating the sound of such raw, broken emotion in his tone.

Arthur looked like he wanted to cry, but he buried his face in the crook of Merlin’s arm when the cambion wrapped his arm around him. “That’s okay. I understand. But I’m here if you need to talk, Merlin.” His grip on Merlin was incredibly tight, as if he was scared that if he let go Merlin would move away from him. “Just know that you cannot tell me anything that will make me look at you differently, or love you less.”

The cambion stared at his reflection, his true self so disgusting, so present, a sight so recognizable and reviled, and yet for the first time ever since it had made its presence known, the creature staring back at him wasn’t completely alone. For the first time ever, he stared at that reflection and found someone else there with him, someone not terrified or disgusted, someone clinging to that detested form.

“We were right,” Merlin found himself saying, hearing the coarseness in his own tone. “Cassius confirmed that a changeling stole Joffrey’s form. That is what was in Mercia in his stead for three whole years.”

Arthur didn’t react to that other than to rub his cheek against Merlin’s skin.

“It made me—-.” Merlin’s voice broke and he was forced to clear his throat, to swallow down hysteria, to gulp and try once more. “There was a time in my life, before I realized that I was a cambion, and what that meant… I was told I was a changeling - a creature so deformed and misshapen, so reviled and unbearably hideous, that it had to take the form, and life, of another. I was told I had stolen the form - the life - of the _real_ Merlin. I believed that lie for a little over a year.” He didn’t know why he was telling Arthur this, this part of his life he wanted to keep hidden, keep secret, keep far away from Arthur, and yet it was almost as if sitting in the dark… “I spent that year staring at myself in the mirror, at the proof of those words.” He stared into his empty black eyes. “I suppose, whenever I see this form, I cannot help but still wonder sometimes if maybe it isn’t true. Other cambions don’t have this form. Maybe—maybe I really am nothing but a filthy—-.”

Arthur let go of his grip around Merlin’s waist to instead reach up and cup his face, easing Merlin’s gaze off of their reflection and instead train it on his face. “You are not _deformed_ or _hideous_ , Merlin.” There was fury and pain in those eyes, but his voice was very calm. “I love you in your human form, and I love you in this one.”

“ _I don’t understand_ ** _how_** _that can be possible,”_ Merlin admitted shakily, hating the tears that welled in his eyes, feeling so incredibly weak and hating himself for showing such a side to his mate. He shifted his gaze to his reflection once more, able to so plainly see the younger version of himself staring back just as brokenly, as hollow.

“You do not have to understand it for it to be real,” Arthur assured him softly as he shifted to straddle his hips, yet once there he merely wrapped his arms around Merlin’s neck and pressed adoring kisses all over his face. “I will love this side of you enough for the both of us.”

Something in his gut clenched painfully as Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur’s body, pulling him in close tightly while hiding his face in his neck. His body trembled and he found it hard to breathe. “Sometimes I am so terrified you are not real,” he admitted in a choked tone, barely able to get the words out. “Sometimes I think I’m still there, that I’ve made you up in my head to be able to—to cope with—I _live_ in terror that I’ll wake up and realize you are nothing but a beautiful dream.”

Arthur was crying. He wasn’t sobbing. Wasn’t breathing hard. Wasn’t even sniffling. But there was wetness hitting Merlin’s shoulder from where Arthur had been resting his chin. “I am very real.” He took in a deep breath and rubbed the crown of his head against the side of Merlin’s face. “Would a dream be as infuriating as you keep telling me I am?”

Despite it all, despite the actual terror clutching at his stomach, Merlin choked out some laughter at that question. “It _is_ meant to be a compliment, you know.”

“Sure it is.”

Another chuckle, this time less choked, escaped his lips as Merlin breathed out heavily, letting go some of the tension that had clutched him deep within. He tried to smile again, and while it was still very pathetic it looked less pained than it had been before during his previous attempt. “You should go back to bed and try to sleep, Arthur. I am fine now. Really. I—it was nothing, just some silly—-.”

“I _am_ going back to sleep,” Arthur mumbled as he shifted slightly to get more comfortable on his lap, resting his head against Merlin’s cheek. “It just depends on you whether I do so on the bed or on you.”

“Infuriating,” Merlin mumbled in utter veneration as he used his magic to somehow push to his feet while holding Arthur up as the blanket tumbled down around them on the floor. He stared at his reflection, the demon sporting a tender expression, the blonde with his legs and arms wrapped around him, hiding his face in Merlin’s neck yet not enough to completely conceal the relieved and contented smile. “What should I do if I wake up one day and realize this was all just a dream?”

Arthur’s smile slipped for a second and he tightened his grip around Merlin. “That will not happen, but if you need me to give you an answer despite this, then I would say: if that happens, go back to sleep.” He pressed a soft kiss to Merlin's cheek. "I will always be here, Merlin."

Pressing a kiss to Arthur’s hair, Merlin took him back to bed. Thankfully, when he finally dreamt once more, it was of a blonde child playing with a black haired one in a field of flowers, the raven-haired boy happy and content, and the blonde utterly infuriating.


	4. Chapter 4

Morning found Merlin waking up to Arthur’s snores, which were a welcome part of each morning, especially since Arthur refused to believe that he snored. And yet, just like most mornings, Arthur was snoring, loudly, sleeping very comfortably despite having Merlin curled up tightly behind him. The arm around Arthur’s waist, keeping him tightly secured in place even in sleep, was still incredibly pallid and covered in demonic sigils, but even if he hadn’t seen it Merlin would’ve known he was still in his true form thanks to the incredibly hard and aching cock trapped between his stomach and Arthur’s back. 

Honestly, if he wasn’t so hard right now Merlin would probably be worried that his true self hadn’t shifted back into his human disguise like it usually did whenever he lost consciousness, but he was way too distracted at the moment to really think about it as he gave an experimental buck against Arthur’s back. It was his own cock’s throbbing that had awoken him despite how early it was, and even though Merlin knew he hadn’t been dreaming of anything arousing clearly being this close to his mate had affected his physically, because not only was he ridiculously hard, but he’d secreted enough sticky wetness to coat himself.

Arthur needed his rest, he should be able to sleep more, and yet despite knowing this Merlin found himself shifting slowly, carefully on the bed, enough so that his cock could slip free from where it had been trapped between their bodies. Despite the fact that he was slick with his own desire, Merlin remembered how hard it had been for Arthur to take him, and it was with that memory that he used one of his own claws to slice open his palm, gripping his own cock and stroking it to cover it in his scarlet. 

A groan escaped Merlin’s lips at the feeling as he stroked himself with that already healing palm, coating himself in red. He shifted closer to Arthur, breathing in the scent of his hair and skin as he stroked his own monstrous length, coating it in his blood. This was what had helped Arthur before, and Merlin—Merlin needed—-.

Feeling his palm healing up completely, Merlin shifted once more, bringing his hips to Arthur’s and angling his pointed cockhead to that entrance, which was looser in sleep. Merlin gripped Arthur’s hips to keep them from moving as he began to ease that pointed tip into the tight ring. Whether because of the blood coating his cock, or Arthur being asleep made him more relaxed, or his body having already taken that cock once before - whatever it was - Merlin found that ring slowly opening up for him. That wasn’t to say it was easy though, or that he was even breaching it with more than the tip, but unlike before he wasn’t finding it impossible.

Easing a still sleeping Arthur onto his stomach, Merlin let his body weight rest on his boy, adding pressure to the entrance as his cockhead continued to slowly force its way passed that tiny, tight hole. He bit back a groan and dug his hips in, shifting his lower body as the ache grew, trying to breach his blonde and be buried inside of him. Like before, while magic would make this easier, in this form a primal need to conquer this body on its own was more dominant than his desire for satiation, and it was that need that thrummed in delicious victory when his cockhead finally breached the tight ring, burying itself inside of Arthur.

Resting more of his weight on Arthur’s back, Merlin allowed it and gravity to naturally start to sink him inside of that incredible tightness, which squeezed against his length and teased his overly sensitive ridges with each inch. It was a very slow progress, especially since he was trying not to wake Arthur up, and yet gravity only took him so far before he found himself stuck once more. Clenching his ass, Merlin ground his hips into Arthur’s a little harder while fucking his head in a little deeper, and a little deeper, with each thrust, biting hard on his bottom lip to keep from crying out.

_Arthur…_ Merlin groaned in his mind since he would not allow himself to do so with his lips. He was only around a third in and yet the need was getting too great. The cambion slipped himself almost completely out before burying back into Arthur as far as his tightness would allow, it didn’t give him even close to the penetration he desired but he needed friction, no matter slight.

The blonde groaned in his sleep, a slight expression of confusion touching his features. Clearly, while he was still asleep his body was reacting to the penetration.

Forcing himself still, Merlin bit do hard down on his bottom lip to quiet his own groans that he tasted a hint of metallic. It was torture not to move, to remain still, and yet he somehow remained that way until Arthur’s breathing, his snores, deepened, the blonde returning to his undisturbed slumber.

Only then did Merlin allow himself to move again. He shifted his hips, desperately trying to force more of himself into that body, and feeling it slowly start to open up a little more to his invasion. It was hard not to groan out loud when he felt a little more of himself sinking into that heat, to feel himself slowly - _very slowly_ \- _horribly slowly_ \- heading towards being at least halfway inside of his boy. And then, when his pointed tip pressed against the resistant ‘wall’ of Arthur’s stomach against the mattress, finding resistance before he could even be inside halfway, Merlin dripped blonde into Arthur’s hair from the force of his teeth digging into his bottom lip to keep his snarl of frustration silent.

Clearly feeling the force against his stomach, Arthur let out another confused, sleepy groan and tried to shift in his sleep but was unable to due to the cock forcing its way inside of him. His face twisted slightly and he let out a little whimper that made that cock inside of him twitch hard enough to life his hips off of the bed.

Magic lunged out, coating Arthur, dragging him back to the restful sleep he needed, and it was its instinctive intervention that allowed Merlin a little respite, allowing the cambion to thrust harder, groaning in frustration when that body would not give to his advances. He tilted his thrusts, trying to push forwards, to ease against that wall and not press cockhead-first into it, pressing into the mattress instead of sliding up easier into home. And yet he couldn’t angle it properly, his cockhead instead pushing hard against Arthur’s stomach, the constant pressure and slide against his cockhead so consistent and frustratingly delicious that when Merlin came it surprised himself so much he yowled. It was a good thing his magic was keeping Arthur sleeping, otherwise he would’ve no doubt woken him with that loud cry, and with the way that that throbbing cock once more moved his body with its strength.

Burying his face in Arthur’s hair, Merlin left bloody kisses into the gold as he whispered his mate’s name over and over again, cumming inside of him. A part of him was aching with relief - for about a split second - and the other was incredibly unhappy that he had cum so far from where that seed was supposed to be planted. And yet, this time, when Merlin gave a thrust his cockhead finally slipped upwards against that resistance, and with a loud sob Merlin found himself halfway buried inside of his mate.

The pressure of the mattress under Arthur’s stomach, coupled with Merlin’s body weight pinning the sleeping blonde to the bed, made the body around those ridges press in even tighter than usual, sending jolts of electric pleasure from Merlin’s tip to his groin, making each inch of penetration simultaneously pleasurable and torturous. Blood and cum mixed inside of Arthur in that tingling sensation that felt so much like magic but could not be since Merlin was not using any - for this purpose at least - and yet it felt _alive_ and _so incredibly_ like magic as Merlin finally felt himself sinking into Arthur easier, deeper, until he was almost completely inside of him.

And then Merlin moved.

And then he broke.

Sobbing his pleasure into Arthur’s blood-speckled hair, Merlin quickly found himself lost in the pleasure. He rolled his hips, gasping breathily, loudly, as every inch was torturously accentuated by the countless ridges being rubbed and massaged - deliciously teased - by his lover’s incredibly tight insides. 

“ _Iloveyousomuch_ ,” he groaned into Arthur’s hair, needing to tell him that even though the blonde would not be able to hear him. “My _beautiful_ mate.” He pressed bloody kisses against that hair, the sides of Arthur’s face, the taste of Arthur’s skin and his own blood causing his hips to begin increasing in speed until he was slamming into his boy roughly, savagely, before finally thrusting in deeply and hooking Arthur deep within as he came once more, filling him at his most sacred.

Toes curling in pleasure, Merlin hugged Arthur so tightly as his body accepting his seed. He pressed more kisses, whispered further words of love, and then, after filling that body a couple of more times found himself hooked deep within his mate, unable to pull out at all.

Taking it as a sign from the gods that Arthur had been an exceptional little hole and deserved to wake up hooked like he’d mentioned desiring before, Merlin got comfortable on top of his boy and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

 

Merlin had yet to return to his human form, and while Arthur did not mind at all seeing the cambion’s true form, he knew that the fact that he had yet to change back was really bothering and worrying Merlin. His master had exiled himself to his tower, saying that he had to prepare things for the coronation and the dark rituals afterwards, which of course was true (especially considering he was brewing the potion to reveal just how bad their changeling situation was) and would not allow anyone but Arthur access to the tower. Should anyone need anything of him Arthur would be the messenger, and while the blonde wanted nothing more than to keep Merlin company there were things Merlin needed to do in the castle in preparation, and since he could not (would not) leave the tower Arthur had been forced to take on these duties for him.

No one seemed to find Merlin’s self-imposed exile odd, and that reminded Arthur that Merlin was known to hole himself away, especially in times of stress, so hopefully they could use this to their advantage. No one questioned Arthur acting as Merlin’s representative either, merely asking him to make sure that Merlin did not work himself into an early grave as - they had all noted - he would need his strength for what was to come.

There was also the fact that the Swain were not ready but given how quickly time was counting down they would just have to deal with it. If the men were to go through the dark rituals before the dark moon, then the time table for training and then matchmaking the Swain had decreased exponentially. Thankfully Bors and Owain had taken that whole issue in stride - and Arthur and Fionn were more than happy to leave them in charge and thus spend a little more time with their respective masters.

_Speaking_ about his master, Arthur’s body was oddly sore. Something felt different. He wasn’t sure _what_ but he’d noticed it in the morning after waking up to find Merlin’s demon cock buried inside of his body, and the tightness from where that cock not only jutted from his core, but the seed it had filled him with. To be honest, Arthur had started shifting his hips inquisitively trying to figure out what felt different, but the second he _had_ he’d realized he was being hooked and _that_ had quickly derailed his investigative nature in seconds. The barbs hadn’t exactly been holding him deep, but the ridges were hard enough, sharp enough, to keep him in place.

Still, though, even while Merlin had been asleep those ridges had unsharpened enough - instinctively - to allow Arthur to fuck himself back against his lover, enjoying the feeling not only of the ridges, but of the fact that while Merlin had apparently wanted him enough to leave him with a stomach full of seed, his idiotic cambion had still been so worried about Arthur’s need to sleep that he’d no doubt used magic to make sure Arthur slept through his rutting. That both pissed him off and aroused him. He’d gotten back by taking from his sleeping lover, milking Merlin’s seed from him over and over again until he was scared that white life would slip passed his hole and down his thighs with each thrust back against that large, delirium-inducing cock. And then Merlin had awoken and, well, Arthur had completely forgotten how to _think_ much less be _able_ to think.

But throughout his many chores throughout the day, Arthur found himself pressing his hand against his stomach or his side or his back when the discomfort would return suddenly and without warning. It wasn’t pain. If it had been pain he’d have been more concerned, it was more as if something inside of him was _different_ and his body was trying to get used to whatever this difference was. A part of him figured that it might be the fact that his stomach was still slightly extended from the seed that had remained buried inside of him, but that had been something which had happened the last time he’d tupped with Merlin in his demonic form. It was as if the seed spilt from that barbed cock stuck itself deep inside of Arthur and refused to slip out. It hadn’t bothered him the last time though, and even though he’d fallen asleep with an overly filled body he’d found that his inflation had gone down sometime during the night so he honestly hadn’t thought much about it.

Now he did, though. Despite the fact that he’d been so full it had been nearly painful, now that Arthur really thought about it, not one bit of that seed had slipped from his body. He liked that, he did, but his stomach wasn’t as inflated as it had been earlier on in the day. He knew because he’d had to tighten the belt he’d been wearing around the overly large shirt he’d been wearing to hide the inflation - and while he still had a little bit of a bulge, it wasn’t even close to what it had been in the morning. In fact—-Arthur discreetly tightened the belt once more as he realized it’d gone down a little more.

If the cum was not dripping out of him, where exactly was it going? Clearly _something_ was happening to it, but _what_?

It wasn’t as if—-.

Arthur’s eyes widened as he looked down at his body. Was his body _absorbing_ Merlin’s seed? He didn’t understand magic very well, but one of the very few things he could remember from Nimueh’s very boring Magical History lessons was that _Intention_ was the most important thing for those born with magic. She’d said something about magic would betray the true intentions of the magic-user as it would pick up on subconscious desires and do what the magic-user would never admit to wanting. It was why it was so important to have control over yourself, your will, and your own magic, otherwise the latter could run wild and cause all sorts of problems.

The blonde gulped very deeply and thought back to all the times Merlin had told the blonde that his body was not only meant to house his cock, but store his seed. Not only had his Master told him over and over again that that was his body’s sole purpose, but Arthur himself had not only agreed enthusiastically, but reminded Merlin of said purpose whenever the idiot cambion would show any sort of doubt. What if—-what if their combined intentions had _done_ something to Arthur? He had Merlin’s magic living inside of him, had since his slave days - it was what had saved him from the Embalming Curse - so maybe the magic living in him and the one pulsating out from Merlin had worked together to give Merlin what he wanted - to make quite _literally_ make Arthur’s body a living vessel to house his seed?

Leaning hard against the wall at the very thought, Arthur pressed one hand against his ever flatter stomach, trying his best to fight the absolute arousal that thought theory gave him. If that were true - if so - _Merlin’s magic inside of me… I need you to listen_ ** _very_** _closely to me because while I appreciate the initiative you are not doing your job properly_. He thought were long and hard, trying to connect with that magic within him for the very first time ever. _You’re not only supposed to do that with his demonic seed, I am supposed to house his seed in_ ** _any_** _form he_ ** _ever_** _takes._ He shivered as he was quickly losing his battle against his arousal. _If he’s in his demonic form I cannot lose one drop - good job there - but what about his human side? I must have all of that as well._ His stomach was warmer than before but he couldn’t be too sure whether that was due to the magic listening to him or if it was just that it was working to absorb the seed still within him - or whether he was just so incredibly aroused right now. _If freeing Merlin’s draconic magic changes him - or gives him another form - I_ ** _demand_** _that side’s seed as well._

A powerful jolt of something Arthur had never felt before pierced through him like a punch, leaving him painfully aroused and breathless. It was a force that was both completely foreign and yet not all at the time. It didn’t feel like Merlin’s magic, or the demon’s, and yet he could feel it almost physically, hot, breathy, needy and highly - desperately - approving.

The runes in his arms - the ones that connected him to Merlin - glowed gold - and yet the ones only on his _own_ skin glowed as well, but these were green.

Blue eyes widened in absolute shock. Was this—was this Merlin’s _draconic_ magic? It was supposed to be trapped inside of Merlin and yet Sophia _had_ said that she’d managed to puncture some holes in the shell so that she could tie Arthur to Merlin’s draconic magic and thus fulfill Merlin’s wish when he’d willed Excalibur to Arthur. If so, that meant while Merlin might be unable to use his own draconic magic it was connected to Arthur and— _and_ —maybe—was _that_ what had reacted so viscerally to his command to Merlin’s magic within him?

_Is—is that_ **_you_ ** _—my dragon?_

The jolt again, fainter this time, as if it had taken all its strength to react so strongly last time and was fatigued. It kept growing fainter and fainter, but that was fine, it had already shown itself.

Excitement thrummed through Arthur’s body at the possibilities that this manifestation had raised. If Merlin’s draconic magic could do this it meant there was hope that Merlin would be able to free it from that monster’s curse. He’d been so worried that Merlin — the most powerful magic-user Arthur had ever known — still was unable to free himself from a dead asshole's spell, that his love would never be able to be whole, and (very selfishly, he knew) that _Arthur_ would never have every aspect of his lover with him. But this appearance had not only assured him that the draconic magic was very much active inside but that it was clearly more awareof what was going on around it than anyone had given it credit. 

He needed to get that magic to fight more, to battle that egg, to crack it and be freed. 

_Fight for me, my beast,_ he commanded the dragon trapped within Merlin by what had been the most evil existences. _And when you are free, I will welcome you into me - and your seed in my body - with great desire_.

The reaction was even fainter, but he could feel the desperation and need it transmitted before it disappeared all-together. 

It might be gone now, weakened by the extraordinary strength it must’ve had to use to reach out, but Arthur was not disappointed by this, in fact, he was elated. Not only did he have proof of the strength of Merlin’s draconic magic, but that he was connected to it, and that - like the rest of Merlin - it wanted him fiercely.

Catching himself smiling goofily, Arthur cleared his throat and trained his face into the bored expression he’d been taught from childhood to adopt while in mixed company. And it was a good thing that he did, because only a couple of seconds after he’d done so a voice from behind him broke into his happy delirium.

“If it were not for the fact that it appears Lord Merlin is turning away _anyone_ who comes to his door I would have assumed he was avoiding me.”

Taking in a deep breath, good nature definitely dimmed, Arthur steeled himself as he turned to face the would-be king of Mercia. “I had not realized you were off of bed rest, and I doubt he did either, so no, he is not doing all of this to _avoid_ you.”

Valiant stood there, his clothes much finer now that he was basically the king, even if the ceremony itself had yet to take place. It didn’t quite suit him. He didn’t look like he should be wearing fine clothes, Valiant was very clearly a warrior who should be covered in dirt, sweat, guts and blood. “I would hope Lord Merlin would not show a childish side by trying to do something like not attending the crowning ceremony.” That was stated yet clearly held a hint of a question. “Even though he is not the Grand Court Sorcerer anymore he is still an important part of the Mercian Court and holds favor with the Courtiers.”

“My Master has no intention of missing your coronation,” Arthur mumbled, annoyed that Valiant either hadn’t known the word ‘coronation’ or had merely not cared to use it. “He is, in fact, looking forwards to it.” If anything, once that crown was on Valiant’s head - should the potion be complete on time - they’d have a better idea of just how infested their kingdom truly was.

“Is he?” Valiant’s tone betrayed his surprise at that news. 

“Yes, he is,” Arthur responded, secretly hoping that Valiant himself would turn out to be a changeling so he could have a reason to finally beat him up himself. “Although I doubt he would ever want you to know that.”

“I see.” Valiant seemed to be mulling those words before he suddenly cleared his throat and motioned towards the balcony. “I would like a word with you in private.”

If Valiant had motioned to one of the rooms Arthur would’ve refused, knowing exactly all the things that could happen - people that could be hiding and in wait - in those more secluded areas, and obviously Valiant had realized that if he was motioning towards the balcony. That was why the exiled prince had had no choice but to head towards the balcony, which overlooked the private gardens, and wait for Valiant to join him after closing the doors so that their conversation would not be overheard.

“Boy, I am to be king,” Valiant declared the second he closed the door and turned to walk towards Arthur. “After I become king certain things will be different in this court, and with my new power I will be able to bestow certain privileges or offers that I would not have been able to before.”

Unease flittered through the blonde as he eyed Valiant warily. What the hell was this man’s gameplay? Where was he going with this?

“I am not as stupid as I know many people seem to think,” Valiant continued as he moved to stand next to Arthur at the balcony, hands clasped behind his back and gaze out over the deserted gardens. “I have always wondered what I would do different were I king, and even though I may have been put under a spell the other night a lot of the changes that were actioned were clearly taken from my subconscious. For example, the dark moon should just belong to us men, and the capital should be overflowing with holes for conquering. We should not be hidden away, locked inside, like feral animals. We have given up a lot for our kingdom and they should be giving back to us.” He raised an eyebrow. “I have handpicked a few of our best, unmatched warriors and they will have first picks of the Swain.” He must’ve seen Arthur’s objections to that because he continued on with a forceful tone. “I do not care if you have to continue their training while they are being sodomized, you _will_ let those boys know that in the next couple of days some of them will soon have masters and be expected to fulfill their duties _enthusiastically_.”

Sensing there was more to come, and not wanting to argue _just yet_ until he had the whole picture, Arthur nodded and motioned for him to carry on.

“As king there will be certain duties I will require, as well as certain obligations which must be met - both to my kingdom and to myself.” Valiant raised an eyebrow and straightened his back to stand tall. “I want to make an offer to you which I will not be able to act on until the crown rests on my head, but one which I make with full intention of carrying out once I have the power to do so.”

That wariness grew more and more as Arthur tensed, shifting to fully face Valiant with the same amount of caution one would a poisonous snake.

“I have already agreed to honor your sister’s agreement to give you back Camelot once we win the war,” Valiant informed him with incredible confidence. “But I am _also_ willing to allow you to keep two of the kingdoms that Camelot absorbed, while Mercia will take the rest, but even with only two Camelot will be larger, and greater, once you take over as king.” His chin raised, his gaze still on the garden. “I am even willing to have this promise written down by the scribes so that you will know I mean to keep my word.”

There was definitely some horrible condition to this, and Arthur wondered worriedly exactly what Valiant thought he’d get in return for this. He awaited, but when the large man remained silent he was forced to ask: “What do you want in exchange?”

“A few minor, inconsequential things which will benefit both of our kingdoms,” Valiant informed him aloofly with a half shrug of his shoulders. “Stewardship of Camelot for the first five years of your reign, an alliance cemented with unbreakable blood magic, a trade agreement between our two kingdoms and - among other things - such as an Emissary of each other’s kingdom permanently based in each other’s Courts."

If Arthur was being completely honest, he would admit to being shocked at how well thought out that had been. The blonde had definitely been one of the ones who had dismissed Valiant’s intellect, unable to understand _why_ Merlin kept warning him not to underestimate the Mercian’s cunning, and yet now that he stood face to face with the man who would be king he had to admit that Merlin had been right. Also, so had Valiant. Those conditions would benefit both Mercia _and_ Camelot in different ways, but would benefit they both nonetheless. It was all very agreeable, very sensible, very… attractive.

That was why he knew, without a doubt, that there was something else. “What does ‘among other things’ detail?”

A flash of frustration crossed Valiant’s face before he let out a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and turned to face Arthur finally. “Once Mercia has not only won back the kingdom you should _never_ have been weak enough to lose, but has _also_ given it to you larger than it had been under your father’s rule, I wish you to immediately return to Camelot and become the king your people need.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. What game was Valiant playing? This could _not_ be his big condition. It was not only practical but _agreeable_ , so there _had_ to be—-.”

“ _Without_ Lord Merlin.”

And _there_ it was, and even though Arthur had been expecting something it sure as hell had not been _this_. “Excuse me?”

“We cannot allow Mercia’s greatest asset to be taken away from her,” Valiant told him point-blankly. “Lord Merlin _must_ become Mercia’s Grand Court Sorcerer once more. It is what he was always meant to be, and the kingdom needs his magic. I cannot allow you to take him from Mercia.”

“So, the extra kingdoms are _in_ _exchange_ for Merlin.” Arthur could not believe this, could not _believe_ he was hearing this.

“We will be losing kingdoms we will have rightfully earned through spoils of war,” Valiant declared with a sneer. “All in all, I am sure you will see that it is a very fair trade which has been skewed - many ways - in your favor.”

“Fair trade.” Arthur took back his belief that Valiant might not be as stupid as he’d always thought. The man was, _by far_ , stupider than the blonde could’ve ever suspected. “Merlin is not something to be _bartered._ ”

That frustration returned on Valiant’s face. “I am offering you this in good faith, boy, and it would do you - and your kingdom - good for you to think of it as a future king.”

“I do not _need_ to think about it, I do not need nor _want_ the other kingdoms, Mercia is more than welcome to have them all,” Arthur assured him immediately, still unable to believe he was having this conversation. “Merlin is _my Master_. I am _his Consort_. The fact that you, a Mercian, would even _think_ —.”

“You are bound by magic for a purpose, boy.” Valiant did not look at all interested in hearing the rest of that. “Did you _truly_ think we would not have an _unbinding_ spell in case of something unexpected happening?” He smirked at whatever he saw flash over Arthur’s face at that revelation. “I would not ask for you to break off your arrangement now, in fact I would encourage you to continue with it, but once you have your kingdom back, the magic binding you as his Consort will be removed and you two will retire to your respective kingdoms to help your own people.”

“No.” Arthur shook his head.

“ _No_.” Even though it was said there was an air of question to that word.

“ **No**.” He wasn’t sure how much clearer he needed to be, but he wasn’t about to let there be any doubt in _anyone’s_ mind about this. “I do not want to be with Merlin because of his position in court or because magic tells me to. I’m in love with him _for him_ , just like he is with me, and you can offer me anything you can think of - you can offer me the whole of Albion - but my answer would still stay the same. Binding magic or not, Merlin is _mine_ , and I will not allow _anyone else_ to have any part of him.”

“Do not be foolish, boy,” Valiant snarled with a hint of threat in his voice. “No one else would offer you such a deal, not even your very own sister. Do not show such weakness and short-sightedness by dismissing without even a second’s thought an offer which would greatly assist your kingdom after it has been ravaged by war.” He then sneered. “Unless, of course, you are waiting to be offered something _more_. Something _specific_.” He chuckled darkly and raised an eyebrow. “Out of curiosity - what would it _truly_ take, boy? What price are you waiting for me to name?”

How was this not getting through to him? Did he _really_ think that Arthur was holding out for a better deal? What was it going to take to convince the idiot that Arthur had no interest in leaving Merlin? “You would not understand my rejection or the reasons behind it, Valiant, because you have never been in love with anyone. So let me just tell you something very clearly and know that I am not trying to get you to sweeten your deal: I _love_ Merlin. He is not my Master because I needed a patron in court, or because he was powerful, or because of his sex skills. He’s my Master because I _want_ him to be my Master, because I _want_ to belong to him, because I _need_ him. Not his magic, not his connections, not his sexual knowledge, not his family name. _Him_. I need _him_. I _need_ Merlin. I did not ask for Camelot to be returned, _Mer_ lin did that, _for_ me, and completely without my knowledge.” He clenched his fists tightly. “So if you are going to honor Morgana’s agreement then that is all I need.”

Valiant slammed his fist so hard into the balcony’s railing that it shook. His face was scrunched up and red from his anger as he glared at Arthur, his whole body trembling from visible and barely restrained fury. “You will _not_ be taking Lord Merlin to Camelot. He will remain _here_ , in the Court he grew up in, with _his people_.”

“No.” Arthur shook his head with very little - and quickly dying - patience. “If he stays, I stay. If I go, he goes. He’s not tied to the Mercian throne anymore, you cannot stop him if he wants to leave with me.”

“Listen here you _spoiled little whore_ ,” Valiant snarled very low, very viciously. “You should be thanking your lucky stars that you have survived as long as you have. You were supposed to be nothing more than a lesson to the other inmates of what would happen to them should they give us any trouble. Had Lord Merlin and King Bayard not come as quickly as they had you would have been nothing more than another piece of trash that was used by us and then thrown back to the cells to either die or find a way to survive and live as a reminder to all what happens to those who cross us. Instead you somehow managed to claw your way out of the sewers - a place a diseased _rat_ like you should have always remained - and have been _dirtying_ him ever since!” He took a step towards Arthur, and another one. “I wasn’t able to stop it back then, but I can _now_ , and you can either take the conditions I am overly graciously giving you because _he_ wishes you to be taken care of - _or_ you will force me to risk pissing him off by doing what I _have_ to.” 

Staring up into that threatening, hate-filled face, Arthur froze in sudden understanding. He couldn’t believe it. Could not understand how exactly they had all missed this. Then again, all things considered he could understand how _Merlin_ had missed it, but how had _he_?

“How long have you been in love with Merlin?”

Valiant flinched, visibly faltering, eyes widening, face paling slightly, before he cleared his throat and sneered. “What foolishness are you saying?”

But now that he’d seen it he couldn’t unsee it. Arthur looked back towards everything, even his first encounter with Valiant, through different eyes, especially since he’d seen what Simon had shown him of that event, and of Valiant’s actions towards Merlin himself, his words during their coupling. “You have been in love with him since before I was taken prisoner,” he realized, utterly shaken by this revelation. “Probably even _years_ before I ever appeared in Mercia.” His eyes widened. “He thinks because of how you acted towards him that you have never actually liked him at all, but it is the complete opposite, isn’t it? You not only liked him, you desired him, but you’re so jaded and warped you did not not how to show it except by, what, displaying your dominance? Like an animal would?”

Dangerous anger began to blotch on Valiant’s face. “I would stop talking such filthy lies if I were you, Prince Arthur.”

Just the fact that Valiant had used his title was betrayal enough of the truth. “You’d known that Merlin used to bottom in the Mercian Court, but I’m assuming by the time you arrived he’d already switched to topping. For someone like you you probably saw it as his deciding there was no one Alpha-enough, strong-enough, dominant-enough - _worthy_ enough - to bottom for.” He was honestly getting a little disoriented with the rush of understanding. “ _That_ is why you always acted the way you did towards him, or at least acted the way you did whenever he was around. Even that day in the prisons you only went searching through the cells when your friend confirmed that Bayard and Merlin would be taking a stroll of the dungeons to survey the prisoners. You—what was the idea? To show your utter control over the dungeons? Over the actions of your followers? Or did you just want him to start seeing you in a sexual light? You’re so utterly twisted and — inexperienced — that was your attempt at — you were trying to _court_ him in your own way, weren’t you?”

In a quick movement Valiant had grabbed him by the collar, raised, and slammed him back against the wall, clenched fist raised, poised to him strike him, and yet it was trembling in the air from his visible restraint.

That was all he needed to be completely sure. “He thinks the jealous looks you keep sending us are directed at _him_ , but they’re directed at _me_.” When Valiant lost his restraint and punched, even Arthur was a little surprised at how easily he caught that fist in his hand, the both of their hands trembling with the force they each exuded.

“You are clearly not as intelligent as everyone seems to think.” Valiant’s voice was strained, snarled, from his force against that hand. “Why would I continue to harass you if that were the case?”

“But you _didn’t_ , not when Merlin traded himself to you,” Arthur countered immediately. “I should have realized—when he went to you—when you two were—you _completely_ ignored me. There was no hesitation. No longing looks. You didn’t even make backhanded comments or criticize me or anything. Nothing.I had thought it odd that you had seemed to have forgotten about me so obediently but I’d thought it was due to your obedience to king Bayard. Yet that was not it, was it? You fell in line _immediately_ because _I_ was not the one you had been after. It was _Merlin_. It had _always_ been Merlin. And you had him, even if only for a while, and then you lost him.” As someone who had been in a similar situation, Arthur felt a moment’s sympathy, but it was quickly gone. “Even afterwards you only started to bother me once again the _second_ you lost him. And that—-that was to _get his attention_.” Arthur let out a ragged breath. “Because the only time he’s not avoiding and _ignoring_ you is when he’s warning you away from me, or threatening you over me. You’re—you are _using me_ to get it _to him_.”

“You have a very fertile imagination,” Valiant bit out in a mocking tone. “But one cannot expect better of an immature _child_.”

“ _I_ am the immature child?” Arthur scoffed, more darkly amused than actually insulted. “ _I_ am not the one who would go to such ridiculous lengths because he is unable to actually tell the person he has feelings for that he does! _You_ had _years_ to tell Merlin how you really felt about him, to woo him, to do _anything_ other than pout in the corner and watch him like some sort of stalker! _You_ then had a second chance to do something about it when I was taken by Nimueh and Merlin _hated_ me, you could have _easily_ used that to become closer to him but you did not! _You_ were the one who not only could not tell him the truth of your feelings like an adult, like a _normal human being_ , but _you_ were the one who accepted - preferred even - to allow him to _trade_ himself to you - to let himself be treated by you like some common whore - due to his fear for my safety! Because that way you - what - had him without having to do any of the actual hard work that goes into making a relationship work? And _then_ , when you lost him, you went and picked the _most inconvenient_ person you could think of to pair with _just so you would have an excuse to still be in contact with Merlin_!” Arthur’s hands clenched tightly into fists at his side, remembering Merlin’s annoyed huffs about how Valiant usually always managed to interrupt his renewal of the magic inside of Daegal, and how the impatient man would usually start while Merlin was still trying to feed the druid. “Was that your sick idea of a threesome? Did tupping Deal while he was kissing Merlin make you feel as if—-as if you two were _sharing_ him?” He shook his head. “ _Me_ immature and childish? _You_ are the one who called for Merlin _the second_ you discovered you would be king to try and use my safety to scare him into being with you again!” Arthur only just realized that horrible truth as he was speaking, and that infuriated him even more than he’d already been. “You are the one who is trying to separate us by such underhanded—-!”

“Are you done?” Valiant wanted to know in a hiss.

“No.” Arthur shook his head, unable to keep the picture of emotions from boiling inside of him. “It must really kill you.”

“What? That you are with him?” Valiant laughed darkly, mockingly. “You really give yourself far too much value.”

“No, not _that_.” Arthur shook his head in utter disgust. “I meant that you must have realized by now that had it not been for _your_ actions Merlin and I would not only have met and fallen in love, but we would not have the relationship we do now. That day in the dungeons - had it not been for you - people would have kept me hidden and kept me unseen in the back of the cell during Merlin and Bayard’s visit. Had _you_ had not pulled me out of the cell Merlin would never would have seen - much less met - me, he and I—.” The blonde blinked in sudden realization, feeling a little sick. “If it wasn’t for _you_ he would not be _mine_.”

Valiant’s eyes flashed violently.

Remembering that look all too well, and feeling the fury slowly making Valiant’s first overpower his grip on it, Arthur shifted his body and kicked Valiant in his chest, catching the would-be king unguarded, causing him to let go of the blonde as he stumbled back. Landing on his feet, Arthur had Excalibur in his hand in seconds, the blade raised and the tip pressed against Valiant’s chest in time to stop him in his tracks when the man charged with a vicious snarl.

“Is that very smart, boy?” Valiant snarled like a rabid animal. “Attacking Mercia’s future king? All I have to do is yell for the guards and I would have all I would need to throw you back in the dungeons, the place a rat like you should never have left.”

“Is _that_ very smart of _you_?” Arthur wanted to know, relieved Excalibur had come so quickly, unfaltering. “I think _everyone_ will know that, if we are in this position, _I_ am not the one who will have provoked it.” He raised an eyebrow. “If I were you, I’d start remembering you have a kingdom to protect. Also, if I were a weaker, childish, immature person, I’d remind you what happened the _last_ time you threatened me. But I do not need Merlin to protect me.”

“Is that so?” Valiant smiled, and the look would’ve been terrifying if it weren’t for Arthur’s own fury. “And why would you not be smart and go running to tell your oh-so cock-whipped Master that you’ve been threatened?”

“Because,” Arthur declared in a monotone way, “I do not _intend_ to have Merlin protect me. _I_ intend to protect _him_.” He could see the surprise that filtered over Valiant’s face at those words but he pressed on. “I might not look like much compared to you, and I may not have a kingdom to back me up, but do not underestimate someone with something precious to lose. I lost Merlin once, and I will _never_ allow that to happen again. I have done everything - _will_ do anything - for him, and I will _never_ allow you or _anyone else_ to try and touch what belongs _to me_.”

“I thought he wasn’t an object to be bartered,” Valiant mocked, “and yet you claim ownership, and anything owned can be bartered.” 

“That’s where you are wrong,” Arthur assured the would-be king, more piteously than angrily at this point. “He is as much mine as my heart and my breath are - and I could _never_ barter _them_ away for they are necessary for me to continue living - _as is he_.” He moved closer, shifting his grip on Excalibur so that while it remained pressed threateningly against Valiant’s chest, Arthur could now move closer so as to whisper lower. “Be content with ruling your kingdom, King Valiant, because _that_ is the only desire you’ve held for the last couple of years which you will _actually_ achieve. ” 

“Are you threatening the soon to be crowned king of Mercia?” Valiant asked him with dark delight.

Instead of answering, Arthur merely smiled with just as dark promise as Valiant’s delight, before he turned and left.

* * *

 

**_I have been unable to pick up anything as of yet_**. Mordred’s voice was tired yet determined as it rung in his mind. **_Then again, considering that I have never heard any thought in the Mercian Court that indicated we might have changelings it means that either I am unable to read the minds of the fair folk, or there is some sort of protection upon the changeling’s mind._**

_Keep searching, please_ , Merlin asked as he peered down at the potion bubbling and brewing in front of him. _And if you hear anything even remotely suspicious—-_.

**_You will know once I do._ **

Merlin cleared his throat, not exactly sure how to broach this topic. _But do not let the search consume you, you should also, uh, remember to enjoy yourself as well. There are, uh, many worthy men who understand your true worth and who you should not ignore merely if it is because you feel that you have a duty and should not—-._

**_Who told you about Percival?_** Utter mortification.

_Well, I_ ** _was_** _in the Mesmer with you two_ , Merlin reminded patiently. _And I_ ** _have_** _noticed that he still seems affect_ —.

**_I must go._** And with that the connection ended.

Sighing, hoping he hadn’t unintentionally made things more difficult for Percy by embarrassing Mordred, Merlin went back to work.

* * *

 

“Just what we needed - someone making the little time we have to train them _even shorter_.” Owain palmed his face as he finished listening to Arthur’s update.

“Does he think we are _purposefully_ trying to draw out the training?” Fionn wanted to know in a mixture of annoyance, worry, and consternation. 

“That does not matter right now,” Bors declared from where he leaned against one of the windows, back to the group practicing in the training ground. “What we need is an exact amount of warriors he plans on ‘rewarding’, as well as _who_ they are. Valiant might have said the men would select the Swain but that is not the right course of action, they need to be matched, paired, but we need to know exactly who and how many before we can even start to figure out who the best matches would be and how to best train them during the little amount of time they have left.”

“I will get the information from him,” Owain offered with a heavy sigh. “Out of all of us I am the only one he will be forced to be nice to.”

“Also, we need to figure out if _he_ expects to be one of the ones who gets to pick early,” Fionn added almost immediately. “We have to remember that he does not have Daegal anymore, and he _is,_ well, you know.” He looked a little uneasy. “I’ve seen the way that monstrous thing moved inside of Daegal. There are not many - if any - of the Swain who would be able to take such a thing… and none with pleasure.” The squire shivered. “Not that _anyone_ would be able to find pleasure from so impossibly filled.”

Arthur decided to leave Fionn with that misconception because (a) he’d have to explain his disagreement, and (b) he knew Fionn was enamored with Sir Cadman but Arthur still did not want to take the risk of Fionn growing too intrigued with Merlin. Plus, talking about it would just make Arthur return prematurely to the tower again, and he had things he needed to do before he could go back to where Merlin would no doubt be multitasking between potion-brewing and fretting over his true form - unless the latter had disappeared once more.

A part of Arthur hoped - for Merlin - that it was gone, while the other hoped - for himself - that it would not be. Not only did he enjoy Merlin’s true self far too much, but he wanted to test the theory about his body absorbing Merlin’s seed. He wanted to test it… thoroughly.

Clearing his throat, very inappropriately aroused right now, Arthur shifted himself so that the evidence was hidden by the table. 

“I will speak to Lord Valiant about all of that,” Owain assured Fionn with a heavy sigh. “Everything is happening far too quickly. The coronation - the Swain - the ritual - the dark moon - the _battle_.”

“It feels as if we are running out of time,” Fionn agreed before resting his forehead against the table with a deep sigh.

Bors glanced between the two tired boys before turning his gaze to Arthur curiously, and then his gaze shifted curiously over the blonde before resting on his lap. Almost immediately understanding covered his face and he rolled his eyes before pushing away from the window to return to the table. “If you ask me, this could very well work in our favor.” He shook his head. “Also, I doubt that Lord Valiant is going to want one of the Swain, they are all far too low on the totem pole for him to want as a Consort. If who his Consort in his dream state was anyhow influenced by his standards, he has _very_ high ones.”

A muscle jumped in Arthur’s cheek, still unable to believe that Valiant had been able to hide his feelings for Merlin so well considering everything. In hindsight the situation was _so obvious_ that it made Arthur feel utterly stupid for not having realized what was going on before he had. Maybe if he _had_ —-. 

“ _How_ can you think that this could possibly be a good thing?” Fionn, apparently, did not take issue with Bors’ assertions regarding Valiant’s tastes. 

“For the same reason the 1.0 Consorts are doing much better ever since the 2.0 Consorts joined - _competition_.” Bors grinned brightly while anchoring his hands on his hips. “Look at Galvin. He completely believed himself the leader of the pack until Roarke came along, and now the two of them are not only at loggerheads but are pushing their respective groups to achieve further success - all in the name of their highly competitive spirits.” Bors’ lips twisted in a grin. “Imagine how competitive it might get if _some_ of them have already ‘proven themselves capable’ of pleasing a Master while still studying! The others will apply themselves even harder in order to not seem left behind or inadequate.”

“You are truly dastardly,” Fionn declared breathlessly with wide-eyed admiration. “It’s _wonderful_.”

“Thank you.” Bors curtsied quite gracefully before he looked up at Owain. “Would you like me to go with you to see Lord Valiant? He seems to be oddly uncomfortable around me for some reason so he would probably give you less of a run-around, and instead answer you quickly so as to get me out of his sight.”

This was new information to Arthur, who turned to look at the redhead in surprise. “Does he _really_ have an issue with you?”

Bors nodded, looking a little amused yet confused as to this himself. “At first I thought he was in lust with me and unable to trust his desires should he be around me for too long, which would be completely understandable given it is _me_ we are talking about, but that does not actually seem to be the case.”

“I wondered that as well but you are right, lust or affection does not seem to be the cause of his odd behavior towards you,” Owain admitted with a tap of his finger to his lips, proving that he too had noticed Valiant’s behavior. “Even today, when we passed him in the halls, he actually _flinched_ in unease when you passed by him. Lord Valiant does _not_ flinch, especially not so openly around others, it could be viewed as a sign of weakness, and if there is one thing he is not, it is _weak_.” Owain then sighed, clearly not having the time or patience or strength to contemplate this any longer as he turned to Bors and nodded. “So, in answer of your offer to accompany me, I will say yes. Even if only for expedience’s sake you should probably come along, so thank you for offering.”

“You are welcome.” Bors nodded with a smile to him before turning that smile on Fionn. “Your classes are the next ones so I’m going to need you to start planting seeds from now. Make it subtle - but not _too_ subtle that they fly over their heads - that there are some more advanced than the others in the group who are ready to an extra challenge. Galvin and Roarke especially are going to pick up on it and _that_ will start preparing them so that it is not such a big shock when these men arrive.”

Fionn nodded, looking like a soldier being given special orders by his captain. “Subtle but not too subtle. Got it.”

Bors turned to Arthur. “Did you not have to do that thing for Merlin?”

“That thing?” And then Arthur noticed Bors’ subtle glance down at his crotch and his eyes widened. “Oh! Yes! _That_ thing.” He rose to his feet immediately. “I have a thing I need to do for Merlin.” He turned and headed towards the door.

“A _thing_ ,” Owain scoffed, clearly seeing through it.

“ _What_ thing?” Fionn asked in confusion.

The last thing Arthur heard before he escaped the room was Owain and Bors chuckling at Fionn’s expense. He didn’t care though, hurrying on his way back to the tower and the cambion waiting for him there. The blonde smiled and hurried his pace, definitely happy that Bors was around since he was the only one who seemed to not only get that Arthur had a more important obligation to Merlin than he did anything else - but seemed to be doing his best to _assist_ so that Arthur had more time - and excuses - to be by his cambion’s side.

_Thank you, Lord of Random Places_!

He turned the corner a little too quickly and ran into someone, sending the other body falling to the ground, and only once it was sprawled there did he realize who he had plowed into. He hesitated a second before smiling down at the druid. “Sorry about that, Daegal.” He reached down with his hand towards him. “I didn’t mean to barrel into you like that.”

The druid glanced up from where he was rubbing the back of his head. “I was not looking where I was going either,” he admitted as he accepted Arthur’s hand up, squeezing it tightly as he did so, waiting until he was less shaky on his feet to let go. “Is Merlin alright? They say he is refusing to leave his tower or allow anyone but you to come in.”

“Yes, well, you understand how Merlin is, he is moody,” Arthur replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “You used to be one of his lovers, right? So you must get that sometimes he just needs to stay in his tower and, de-stress.”

Daegal blinked in visible surprise. “I would not say I used to be his _lover_. But Mordred _did_ use to ask druids such as Irvyn and myself to _assist_ in pleasing him on his ‘rougher’ nights.”

Oh, yes, Arthur had seen one of these nights thanks to Simon’s mind games. “So, what are you doing in the Swain’s quarters?”

“A couple of my friends are trying for Swain,” Daegal admitted sheepishly, clearly embarrassed for some reason. “They keep telling me I should join but - and please do not take offense to this - but I am not interested.”

He wasn’t offended in the least bit. “Well, do not let anyone talk you into doing anything you do not want to do.” He patted Daegal’s shoulder. “I will talk to you later, I need to take some food to Merlin because knowing my Master, he had yet to eat.” 

And with that he went off, hoping he would not get waylaid again.

“Please tell Merlin that I hope he feels better soon!” Daegal called from behind him.

Waving without looking back, Arthur continued walking.

 

* * *

 

Why had his true form not disappeared as yet?

It had never stayed out this long, and while Merlin did not want to panic he would be lying if he didn’t admit that he was very close to doing just that. What would he do if it did not go? What could he do? On the one hand he was sure he could muster up a convincing-enough glamor, but on the other hand keeping that glamor up would no doubt debilitate him and take up far too much strength/power than he needed given the fact that they were about to go to _war_. And yet, what other choice did he have? He could not go outside of his own tower while in his true form - there was no way that he could fight like this.

Running clawed fingers through his hair with a huff of frustration, Merlin turned towards the mirror he had been avoiding looking in the direction of all day. He stared at himself and then sighed as he looked away towards the brewing potion once more. Despite knowing the truth of what he himself was, a part of him still wanted to be the first to try the potion once it was finished.

Shaking his head, telling him not to allow himself to be distracted, Merlin returned his attention to what was truly important: the potion.

 

* * *

 

Honestly, Arthur was starting to think he was cursed or something. It felt as if the whole day he’d been trying to get back towards Merlin only to be side-tracked or waylaid at every step. First it had been Valiant. Then having to talk to the others about the Swain. Then running into Dageal. Now it was Sir Killian who had needed a very trivial question of his answered, then Sir Eowen wondering when Arthur would be returning to training the knights, then Sir Bertrand enquiring on whether he knew where Sir Montague was, and _then_ it had been Sir Ethan following up on his request regarding Merlin. Honestly, if he got clapped on the shoulder _one more time_ today he’d punch whoever it was.

And then, just as Arthur had thought he was free to hurry to the tower, Percy had cornered him, needing to talk. Arthur had been about to ask him for a raincheck when Percy had blurted out something that had confused and intrigued him into decided to stay around.

“You want my permission,” Arthur intoned incredulously, wondering if he had really heard that correctly, “to court my brother.”

“Yes.” Percy was absolutely scarlet as he nodded. “I understand that it is sudden, but I realized it was remiss of me to start without having actually gotten his kinsman’s approval.” He flushed even redder somehow. “And as your friend I was wondering whether you could assist me somehow in trying to understand him. He—he is being resistant to my courtship.”

Was this the same guy who had had so much issues just _talking_ to Guinevere? “Since when are you interested in Mordred that way?” Arthur wanted to know curiously.

Percy gulped. “When we were Mesmered we were made to believe he was my Consort. I, uh, I enjoyed his company greatly, and I do not just mean his _body_. I feel a little ashamed that it took such a carnal awakening to make me notice him, but I have, and now I feel this need, this desire, this longing—-.”

“Honestly, Percy, I want to warn you because he has feelings for Merlin, and I do not want you to get your heart broken again,” Arthur admitted slowly. “But on the other hand, I want nothing more than for you to be happy - and for him to be completely over Merlin - so you have my blessing. Not that it really means anything because Mordred’s and my relationship is not one where he would ever require or desire my blessing.”

A sigh escaped Percy’s lips.

“That being said, Merlin would definitely be more help in this than I can.” Arthur smiled. “I will ask him.”

“ _Thank you_ , Arthur.” Percy hugged him tightly, cracking some bones in his back from the force behind his hug. His grin was bright and hopeful as he pulled away. “I will not keep you any longer.” He hurried down the hall as if afraid Arthur would change his mind and call him back to take back his permission or offer of help.

Shaking his head in amusement as he watched his friend until he disappeared around the corner, Arthur turned to head back towards the tower only to catch a split second's view of the person standing impossibly close to him right before pain erupted in his head and everything went black.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Dear Merlin_ **

**_I love you. I need you to understand that. This is not because I do not love you, it is because I love my kingdom more - I HAVE to. I am the Crown Prince, the true ruler, and I must do whatever I can to protect my people. I wanted to have faith that we would be able to be victorious but with each loss - first Bayard - then my sister’s child - I have come to realize just how precarious our situation is, and how wrong it was of me to expect you to fix MY issues. This is not your fight, Merlin, not really, and I will not drag you into anything further._ **

**_I sent word to my uncle that I would meet him to try and find a way to save everyone. He is not a kind man, but he is not an idiot either. Surely he knows that the best way to stop the insurrection within the kingdom is to come to some sort of agreement with me, and I will find that agreement. I will stop him. I will find a way, because I have been born with this burden and must prevail._ **

**_I know that you will no doubt think about the first time I abandoned you, when I left you to go with Nimueh, and like then I have a duty, Merlin. If you truly love me you will understand that and allow me to do what I am doing without trying to interfere. This is my choice, Merlin. You must respect that. I also know that this could be a trap but that is a risk I am willing to make._ **

**_I have a greater destiny than to be just your Consort, Merlin, and while many times I wish that was not so, it is. _ **

**_I am sorry that I have had to do this on the sly like I have, and I am sorry for abandoning you once more, but like before, I had to do it. I do love you Merlin, do not ever doubt that. But like you, I have an important role I must play, and I refuse to hide behind your bedroom walls any longer like a kept pet._ **

**_Hopefully one day you can understand why I chose this path even though it took me away from you, and that you can find it in you to forgive me._ **

**_Arthur_ **

Owain looked up from the letter Guinevere had passed him and turned his worried gaze on the door of the small storage closet of a room. Little noises could be heard now and then behind the door, proving that Merlin was still alive back there, but he would not answer to anyone who called and his magic kept them from entering the room after him. The situation made Owain sick at his stomach, even more than the news - the letter he’d just read - had. He couldn’t believe it, refused to believe it, and yet here was the proof.

“Sefa found it when she came to check on the tower, as she has been doing every day since Merlin started blocking everyone out, and realized the barriers were down,” Guinevere explained tiredly. “The letter had been crumpled and left in the middle of the room on the floor. Arthur has been gone at least two days by now, and only the gods know how long Merlin has locked himself in that room. He will not open for anyone, won’t eat the food we leave, and won’t answer. He just keeps walking back and forth and doing _whatever_ it is that he is doing.”

“There has to be some sort of mistake,” Owain muttered as he looked back down at the letter before his gaze rose to Guinevere. “Arthur would not just _do_ this. He would not leave - abandon - Merlin. That’s the _last_ thing I could ever see him doing. The last time I saw him he was heading _here_.”

“Lancelot and Percival have discreetly searched the castle with Mordred’s telepathic assistance, Prince Arthur is no where in sight _or_ mental reach,” Guinevere whispered softly to Owain with a worried look. “He has really gone, has left the Mercian castle, most probably to  go to his own death.”

“He would not be so _stupid_ ,” Owain pressed, refusing to believe that. Arthur might be stubborn and brash and somewhat spoiled, but he was not - and had never been - stupid. He’d _have_ to be stupid to think that going to speak to his uncle would accomplish _anything_ but give the man an advantage in the war. There had to be more to this, there _had_ to be, and yet Guinevere did not seem surprised, which meant that Morgana must believe this as well. But _why_? How? Arthur wasn’t an idiot! He cast a glance in Bors’ direction. “Bors, _tell me_ that this seems wrong to you!”

Bors did not respond to that, his face dark and a strange expression on his face as he stared down at his feet before his blue gaze rose to the ceiling. His eyes narrowed a little further as he glanced around him very subtly, only moving his gaze, his expression a little scrunched in concentration.

“What is it?” Owain asked the half-fae. 

Bors not only didn’t seem to notice the question aimed at him, but he shifted into Sophia, whose lips were pouted. She stomped her foot oddly on the floor before seeming to be following some invisible string from the toe of her boot to the ceiling once more. The neck of her slightly too-large shirt fell to the side, displaying the round of her shoulder, but she did not seem to notice as she took in a deep breath and then pulled back with a hand covering her nose, as if whatever she’d smelt had burnt her nostrils.

Guinevere sent Sophia a little look before she sighed and brush a dark curl out of her face as she turned to Owain once more. “I do not want to go, but given Lo—Crown Prince Valiant’s decree that no woman will be allowed in the capital during the dark moon we are preparing to travel to some hidden manor located outside the capital with the rest of the women.”

He could see the worry on her face. “It _is_ a safe place,” he assured her. “And if I am to be honest, you all leaving for the week of the dark moon might not be such a bad idea.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I might just join you before the city gates close.” Owain then glanced towards the door once more before returning his attention to Guinevere. “Do not worry about Merlin, we will take care of him.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Go, Gwen, and let Morgana know we will keep an eye on him.”

“Thank you, Owain, Sophia,” Guinevere whispered as she reached over and pressed a kiss to his forehead before hurrying out of the room.

Once Guinevere had left, Owain glanced over at the door Merlin was locked behind before shifting his attention onto the redhead with narrowed eyes. He moved towards the redhead and reached her side, able to stare down into her blue eyes since in this form she was shorter than he was. “What is it? What has you so odd?”

Sophia shifted her blues onto his before she cleared her throat and looked away. “It smells, that’s all.”

“Smells?” Owain made a face in confusion, not having expected that answer. He took in an experimental sniff, but could only smell some odd mixture of herbs coming from the empty cauldron in the fireplace. It didn’t exactly _smell_ , but he figured that there were people who were affected by different things. “I do not smell anything bad, but if it bothers you so much I will open the windows and let in some fresh air.” He walked towards said windows and flung them open, getting a face-full of cold air. “There, how about that? That should—-.” Owain turned to find Sophia missing, the redhead having apparently snuck out while his back had been turned. “What is that miscreant _up_ to?”

Sighing, Owain turned his gave over towards the floor, staring at the door behind which soft noises could be heard. He had no idea what Merlin was doing there, but he figured it was a way to either keep himself busy or get Arthur back. Whatever it was, if he needed - or wanted - company - or someone to talk to - he knew Owain was there. The boy would give him some space for right now, partly to respect his need for space and the multitude of feelings he must be gong through right now, and partly because he needed to think.

There were just too many things that weren’t quite right, too many things about this situation which did not make any sense. Why would Arthur suddenly do a complete 180? Why even bring the Valiant situation to them if he was planning on leaving? Also, how exactly had Arthur managed to get word to his uncle? Why would he suddenly be stupid enough to do something like this given the countless times his uncle had tried to kill him? What was going on with Sophia? Was the timing just bad luck or more than coincidental?

There was much more going on here than he knew, and the realization made him incredibly uncomfortable.

Running a hand over his face, Owain sighed deeply only to choke on a scream when he opened his eyes to see that face so close to his seconds before everything went black.

 

* * *

 

Lancelot ran his hands down his face, far too tired and worried given everything that was happening leading up to the coronation. He leaned back into the embrace that wrapped him up from behind. As the Head Knight of Mercia there was always a lot riding on his shoulders, and he was never allowed to show just how ragged the job left him, except, of course, when he was alone with his husband.

“Everything is going to be fine.” Cassius’s voice was soft and encouraging in his ear as he pressed a kiss to the back of Lancelot’s head.

Honestly, Lancelot was just tired of everything. He opened his eyes and stared blankly at the two empty glasses in front of him before getting up and turning in his husband’s embrace, wrapping his own arms around his waist tightly. 

Straightening in this new position, Cassius pressed a kiss to Lancelot’s cheek while rubbing his back comfortingly. “Arthur will be fine. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Does he?” Lancelot wanted to know. “This plan of his is—-.”

“I know,” Cassius whispered into his hair. “All you can do is have faith in him right now, Lance. You have been so incredibly strong, the kingdom—-.”

“What if I had lost you?” Lancelot whispered into Cassius’ shirt hoarsely. “I have a terrifying feeling that no matter what I do I am going to lose you - lose our family - lose everything I hold dear.”

“Why would you say that?” Cassius asked in utter confusion. “Lucan and I are the safest people in this castle - there is not much danger at the infirmary.” 

“Not just—what if Simon had—Merlin knows me well but he still—what if you had—? What if Simon had made _you_ see that vision of me and Percy? What if you thought—what if I _lost you_ because of—? Just the thought makes me sick at my stomach, makes me want to vomit, makes it hard to _breath_.” He gripped Cassius tighter. He hadn’t been lying when he said he was having problems breathing, he _was._ “You know I would never do anything to put our family in danger, right? That I would never risk—-?”

“Lance, you need to _calm down_ ,” Cassius soothed into his hair lovingly, his hands working softly over Lancelot’s body.

“If anything were to happen to you or Lucan - in that Mesmer I felt this aching hole in my chest… and I hadn’t even realized I had lost Lucan but it—!” Lancelot took in a deep, stuttered breath. “If I lost either of you, if I—I would not—I _can_ not—.”

“You are having a panic attack,” Cassius whispered into his ear as he eased Lancelot’s cheek against his chest. “Just listen to my heartbeat and breath deeply. In. Out. In. Good. Out.” His hands continued to rub soothingly against Lancelot’s back until he relaxed in his hold. “And anyway, Lance, _you_ are the one I worry about. You are the Head Knight of a kingdom at war, one that is being constantly attacked.” He sighed heavily, his grip around the olive-skinned man tight. “Do you think I do not panic at the thought of not having _you_ in my life as well? Unlike me, there is a very real chance that you will do something stupidly noble like sacrificing yourself to save someone else.”

“I’m not as important as—-.”

“To _your son_ and _I_ you’re the most important person in the _world!_ ” Cassius hissed immediately, clearly angry by that. “You might be the Head Knight, Lancelot, but you’re _my husband_ , you’re Lucan’s papa. You are not _replaceable_ to us.”

Burying his face into Cassius’ shirt, Lancelot breathed his husband’s scent in deeply, drawing comfort from the familiar scent. “I am so glad you are you. Please do not ever change. _Ever_. **Ever**.”

Cassius chuckled. “And I am glad _you_ are _you._ It would be a pain to have to find another husband so late in the game. _”_

Lancelot pouted yet still snorted in amusement as he bit Cassius’ chest threateningly through the material of his shirt.

That chuckle grew as Cassius shifted one of his hand to caress Lancelot’s hair tenderly. “Well, if you do not like the idea of someone else carrying my name or helping raise our son, then do not do anything stupidly noble. You are Mercian, _not_ from Camelot.” The arm around Lancelot tightened. “Promise me, Lance. _Promise_ me.”

The Head Knight of Mercia stopping biting Cassius so he could whisper against his chest: “I promise.”

They held each other tightly and kissed.

Lucan, far too young to understand the undercurrent of tension in the room, merely continued playing with his toys in the corner.

Finally pulling away, Cassius rubbed his nose against Lancelot’s before he took in a deep breath. “Sefa is expecting a child.”

Surprise filled the Head Knight as he pulled away to look up at his husband. “With _who_? I have not seen her with _anyone_.”

“She is keeping very tight-lipped about who the father is,” Cassius admitted softly with yet another heavy sigh. “I am worried that it was not conceived—-willingly.”

Anger and nausea twisted in Lancelot’s gut at the implication. “She must tell us if that is the case, Cassius. We cannot allow something like that to go unpunished in our Court, especially not against one of the Queen’s ladies.”

“I know, but she will not speak of the situation, does not—when I confirmed that she was expecting a child she questioned me on ways to terminate her pregnancy.” Cassius ran his fingers through Lancelot’s hair. “I will assist her if that is what she truly desires, she would not be the first that I do so, but I—.”

“You what?” Lancelot tilted his head.

Cassius’ glance shifted onto Lucan. “I know that we have not talked about having another child, but—.”

The Head Knight blinked in surprise before his lips twitched and he leaned into his husband, wrapping his arms around his neck with a grin. “I see.”

The Court Physician sighed and rested his hands on Lancelot’s hips. “I suppose this is not the time to be adding to our household, but Lucan will soon get to the age where he will need a playmate, and I thought—-.”

“Do you know why I fell in love with you, Cassius?” Lancelot interrupted as he tilted his head to the side with a small grin.

“My cock,” the Court Physician declared immediately.

Snickering, the dark haired man shook his head. “I fell in _lust_ with you because of that, but I fell _in love_ with you because of this.” He pressed a kiss to Cassius’ heart. “You’re the biggest hearted Mercian I have ever met. Everyone else is busy trying to keep their impulses at bay, to keep from tearing everything apart, while there you are, in the background, putting everyone back together again.”

“Not everyone,” Cassis sighed heavily, losing his smile. “I could not only _not_ save our king, but his heir—-.”

“That was _my_ fault, not yours,” Lancelot assured him just as heavily. “The protection of the castle was in my hands, and given what we now know about the changelings on top of everything else we can all agree that I have failed Mercia.”

“You have not.” Cassius shook his head in determination. “Lancelot, Mercia isn’t a kingdom of nice people, if the Court _truly_ believed _you_ had failed in your duties you would not be the Head Knight anymore. Everyone understands that there was more than you could handle, could be expected to handle.”

“Same with you,” Lancelot whispered soothingly while snuggling in closer, a smile playing on his face. “It would be nice if Sefa had a daughter. I have always wanted to learn how to braid hair.”

There was a moment’s silence, and then a soft: “So you would not mind? I did not want to talk to Sefa until—-.”

“After the war,” Lancelot interrupted with a pensive tone, “we should raise enough children to have our very own army.”

Cassius’ lips twitched despite his raised eyebrow. “Who exactly are you planning to _tend_ to this ‘army’?”

“Us, of course,” Lancelot declared as if this should be obvious. “We will retire to the lands given to me by King Bayard and have our own little kingdom.” Lancelot waggled his eyebrow teasingly. “I will allow you to be _my_ Court Physician.”

“I thought I already _was_ your Court Physician,” Cassius declared as he slowly backed Lancelot into the table and pinned him there with his body.

“You _better_ be.” Lancelot’s voice lowered and his eyes darkened as he found the proof of his husband’s desire pressed into his stomach. His dark eyes rose to his husband’s desire-filled face and his heart felt a little lighter than it had before. “Cassius, I would never do anything to risk what I have with you—what I _could_ have with you.” He needed him to understand this. “I will _never_ leave you, not for anything or anyone, not even for death itself.” He needed him to hear, believe, the sincerity of his oath. “I _love_ you.” He bit down on his bottom lip and hesitated a breath, nervously, before gazing up towards Cassius. “I would not expect it of _you_ , but I—at least for myself—I would like to give monogamy a chance.” He gasped instinctively as the way his husband’s cock throbbed against his stomach.

Suddenly Cassius was kissing him roughly, rougher than he ever had before, gripping Lancelot tightly, his hands claiming.

Lancelot groaned and started to untie the strings holding Cassius’ trousers in place, only to whimper when Cassius’ hand lowered to stop him.

“ _Innocent eyes_ ,” Cassius reminded with a dark chuckle against his lips.

Embarrassed at having forgotten Lucan was in the room, Lancelot glanced over Cassius’ shoulder to find their son still playing. Relief filled him as he rested his forehead against Cassius’ shoulder. “So… maybe we just start with two and work our way up towards the army?”

Amusement was clear in Cassius’ chuckle as he wrapped his arms around Lancelot and pressed a kiss to his hair. “Sounds good to me."

 

* * *

 

 

“What are you _doing_?” Fionn wanted to know curiously as he tilted his head to the side, watching Sophia sniffing around her like a dog might. She was wearing Bors’ clothes yet seemed to have ditched his shoes (as they were big on her) and was traipsing through the castle barefooted. Her hair was still chin-length though, and that red hair swished as she moved her head rapidly, seeming to be searching something before she… licked the air.

Blinking, Fionn was not sure whether to be amused, bemused, or concerned at this behavior. Everything about Sophia/Bors was odd, it was part of their charm (as was the fact that they were most definitely evil), but even _this_ was a little odd for them.

Sophia made up her face, clearly confused and annoyed at something.

“Have you seen Ca— _Sir_ Cadman anywhere?” Fionn wanted to know as he joined her side. “I have been looking all over for him but cannot seem to find him anywhere, not even with the usual suspects I usually find him buried in whenever I have been kept away from him for too long.” Honestly, Fionn didn’t know whether to be relieved about that, or worried that Sir Cadman had managed to find yet another hole to fill. “I keep saying I need to put a bell on—-.” Fionn squeaked when Sophia turned to him, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and yanked him close to her so she could press her nose to the skin of his neck and _breathe_ deeply. “ _Soph_?” He squeaked in a little terror.

“It’s not _you_ ,” she mumbled unhappily to herself as she let him go with a soft shove and returned to looking around. “What _is_ that?” And with that she took off down the hallway in the direction she’d been heading in in the first place.

Straightening his shirt, Fionn watched her go before calling out: “If you see Sir Cadman—- _actually_ , stay away from him if you do. That pervert will most probably enjoy you smelling him _way_ too much.”

Sophia didn’t stop her journey but lifted her thumb in the air, acknowledging his request right before she turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

Shaking his head, bemused once more, Fionn turned and walked down the corridor, searching for his Master. He opened each door down the hallway, peeking inside to see whether Cadman was in one of them, but he was nowhere to be seen. There were _others_ enjoying the rooms though, and quite a couple had sent him inviting looks but he’d closed the doors with ever-growing frustrated huffs as he continued his search.

He turned the corner and stumbled for a second in surprise, seeing a split second view of a bright-red Mordred dragging a surprised Lord Percival into one of the rooms before the door was shut and something slammed hard against it seconds before wet, kissing sounds could be heard, as well as whimpers. Fionn grinned. This was something the blonde prince was going to be very happy to hear - not only was Lord Percival apparently getting over his feelings for Miss Guinevere, but he was also keeping _Mordred_ busy. A thud shook the door, and another, and another, as Mordred yowled like a cat, the sounds mixing with Lord Percival’s heavily breathed grunts that were in time with the thuds against the door.

Yep. Arthur was going to be _very_ happy about this news, which meant he’d probably be in a better mood, which meant he mightn’t insult the Swain today and cause near havoc like usual. Honestly, Fionn didn’t understand how Arthur couldn’t get that the Swain were so easily offended by him because they looked up to him. As things stood, they seemed to be a mixture of annoyed and awed by him. If he was even only a _little_ less of a prat he’d have them eating out of his hands.

_But will he listened to me or_ ** _anyone_** _? Noooooo_.

Rolling his eyes, Fionn opened another door and peeked inside, finding one of the servant boys who had shown no interest in being a Swain doing a _very_ good job of it. Despite not being the best looking of lads he had much attention on him as he was not only surrounded by soldiers, but was the center of attention. 

Sir Radnor had clearly gotten to him first and had fought those trousers down so he could be buried inside of him from behind. He had the boy gripped by his hips as he jackhammered himself into him ruthlessly, each thrust further choking the servant on Sir Marhaus’s cock. Sir Pellinore knelt beneath the servant’s body and was sucking his cock while stroking himself. The servant, for his part, had his arms wrapped around Sir Marhaus’ hips to pull him in even deeper and was sobbing uncontrollably as he was used by the burly knights.

“He’s clenching around me so tightly,” Sir Radnor groaned as the servant undulated his hips back against him as much as he could given the ruthless thrusts he was receiving. “The little whore is begging for more cum.”

“Give it to him,” Sir Marhaus ordered throatily. “He’s been such a good boy, first to Montgomery and Pellinore, and now for us.” He caressed the servant’s head approvingly. “Don’t worry, sweet boy, we will take turns cumming inside of you until you are so full you will not be hungry for days.”

The servant groaned and shifted his hold on Sir Marhaus to dig his nails into his clenched asscheeks.

“He’s clenching even more!” Sir Radnor sobbed out. “What about you, Pelli? How’s his sweet cock? Is it twitching and dripping for you?”

Sir Pellinore groaned in appreciation around the servant’s cock, and the vibration caused the boy to sob even harder around Sir Marhaus in pleasure.

A low whine echoed from the corner of the room, drawing Fionn’s attention there to see Lord Montgomery lying on the animal fur rug, his clothes still on but his pants pulled down low enough on his hips so that his cock was free, said cock buried inside of Irvyn, who was whimpering into the sloppy kiss Lord Montgomery was giving him. Then again, he had every reason to be groaning given the fact that, rested above Irvyn, was Sir Helios, whose cock joined Lord Montgomery’s inside of the druid. Sir Helios lavished the sobbing druid’s neck with wet kisses as his and Montgomery’s cocks moved inside of Irvyn very much out of sync with each other.

Irvyn gripped Lord Montgomery’s shoulders tightly, crying out into his lips as he writhed and shifted between the two larger bodies trapping him between them. It might seem at first like he was trying to escape, but upon closer inspection it became obvious that - given he was so good and trapped - this was his only way to move his hips and urge those cocks deeper inside of him.

A whimper escaped Fionn’s lips as he rubbed his thighs together.

_Where the_ ** _devil_** _is Cadman_?

Frustration welled inside of him as he closed the door and turned to continue on his search, only to realize there was someone standing there right behind him seconds before everything went black.

 

* * *

 

 

So, the rat had turned tail and run. To be honest, Valiant was surprised to hear this news, especially after the way the blonde had stood up to him so infuriatingly the other day, and yet he was definitely not crying over the prince’s loss. For now those of Camelot did not know about Arthur’s actions, and that was how it would stay, because they could easily become dangerous should they feel their prince had changed his allegiance. The Mercian dungeons might be filled with those of Camelot once more.

But that possibility was not what dominated Valiant's mind at the moment.

As soon as the news reached him of the blonde's departure, Valiant had found himself summoning the sorcerer. Arthur’s words from the other day, accusing Valiant of seeking Merlin out the second he had discovered he would be king, rung mockingly in his head, and yet he actively pushed them out of his head. He looked around the king’s private rooms, now  _his_ private rooms, not exactly sure how best to present himself. He could be on the throne-like seat reminding Merlin of his power, or he could be leaning against the window peering out of his kingdom, or he could be—-.

A knock sounded on the door.

A moment’s anxiety flashed through him as he looked around him rapidly before finally he lounged against the statue of some past king leisurely. He relaxed his body, raised his eyebrow imperially, and when he spoke, it was with a lazy drawl. “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal one of the guards looking uneasy.

Annoyance filled him when he realized the guard was alone. Valiant pushed away from the statue and stood ramrod straight. “ _What_?”

“Lord Merlin was not in his tower, My King,” the guard replied with a quick stammer, clearly nervous to be bringing him this news. “Nor was he in his quarters."

Valiant’s eyes narrowed immediately, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Then _find_ him and bring him to me.”

“Y-yes, o-of course.” The guard bowed before closing the door quickly, his footsteps audible and rapid as they departed.

A growl of frustration escaped Valiant’s lips as he folded his muscled arms over his burly chest in utter dismay.

That idiot had not actually _chased_ after the whore? _Had_ he? Just the thought made Valiant’s blood boil deep inside of him. Just _what_ was it about Arthur that made Merlin act so so… _stupid_? Was it because Arthur was young? Was it because he was beautiful? Was it because he was a prince? Was it… was it… was he an exceptional _lay_? Just what _was_ it about the Prince of Camelot that made Merlin act the way he did towards him? That made him _so obsessed_? That made him, that made him, that made him _fall apart_ the way he did whenever Arthur left him?

Merlin had never been weak before he’d met Arthur, and that alone made Valiant hate the blonde. He could remember coming to the Mercian Court and seeing Merlin for the first time. He’d still been the king’s ward at the time, was still being called Lord Merlin, but even _then_ Valiant had been able to feel the raw power emerging from the sorcerer. He hadn’t been surprised when, soon after he’d joined, Merlin had been made Grand Court Sorcerer despite his youth. There’d just been something about Merlin, and there were rumors that, given the fact that Bayard seemed unable to have a child, that Merlin might be being groomed to take over as king one day. Of course, those rumors had been proven untrue when he’d been made Court Sorcerer, and yet, as Bayard continued without child, it was beginning to be whispered that maybe he would give the throne to a kinsman. And _that_ was when Valiant had first started to imagine what it would be like to be King of Mercia with Merlin as his Grand Court Sorcerer. He’d imagined what he’d do with the power of oath, how he’d bend the sorcerer to his will, use him, rule court while buried inside of him.

Before too long Valiant found himself touching himself to only those fantasies. He’d imagine Merlin’s face as he was impaled upon him, whispering his name and groaning out in pleasure as he was taken. It’d made it hard to be around the younger man as he seemed to be the one penetrating, but Valiant had heard the stories of what had happened when Merlin had been younger. Apparently a few of Bayard’s most trusted had had the pleasure of being buried in Merlin, and those men still pined to return to that warmth. Those who slept with Merlin spoke with ardent fever of the pleasures his body could give, how addicting his touch was, and how - once you had tasted the euphoria he could provide - that ecstasy with anyone else was muted, not as pleasurable or satisfying anymore. More than once the word ‘addictive’ had been thrown around, and Valiant hated that he had not been a part of the Mercian Court back in those days. There were portraits of the young Merlin, so Valiant could easily imagine him straddling his hips, whines pitiful in confused need as Valiant forced his cock inside of that body and taught it all about the pleasures only men could give each other.

Obviously the men in Court had failed miserably to teach Merlin this, otherwise he never would’ve switched to topping. If _Valiant_  had been in the Mercian Court at the time Merlin would’ve been too sore to even move. Valiant would’ve kept him in bed, would’ve found a way to get as much of his cock into him as he could, and would’ve made it so Merlin was unable to walk anymore from how sore he was. He’d have taught the young ward, would’ve molded him, groomed him to be his perfect Consort.

And the second the idea had hit him Valiant hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind. He knew it was impossible _now_ , as Merlin had participated actively as a receiver of the dark magics so he could not be a Consort, but had Valiant known him when he was merely the king’s ward he would’ve been able to petition the king for the right of Consort, and given his lineage… The only one who would have a more rightful claim would be the king himself, and Bayard was truly the reason why Valiant had not made a move.

There were rumors, multiple rumors, that Merlin was Bayard’s special pet. It would make sense, given that many wards were taken in for that specific reason. Not only did Bayard show Merlin special favor, but it would appear that many of the lords and knights of the realm - if not _most_ of them - had petitioned the king to have Merlin as their Consort. None had been more persistent than Sir Ethan - if rumors could be believed - but no matter whoever it was King Bayard had denied them all, and had made it known that he had no intention of giving Merlin to any of them so they should all desist in making petitions for the boy. That, coupled with his lack of a wife for so many years, had cemented the idea in Valiant’s head that Bayard was tupping Merlin, and had been the reason why he - and many others - had never made any moves towards Merlin, all waiting for _him_ to do so as it appeared Bayard allowed him lovers as long as they were _his_ choosing.

So Valiant had started his campaign to show Merlin exactly _why_ he should approach him as a lover, and yet, somehow, it had never seemed to work. So he’d continued harder, and harder, trying to find more and more ways to catch Merlin’s attention. He did, multiple times, finding the sorcerer watching him with a slight frown on his face, but he didn’t care as long as he had that attention. He didn’t care _why_ just that he _had_ it. But then he’d ill-chosen the blonde prince and had had to watch as his plans fell apart. Not only had Merlin shunned him so incredibly, but he’d had to watch him with _the rat_.

He clutched his fists tightly in remembrance. 

After the prince had been returned to his kingdom Merlin had thrown himself into the battle in a way that was all Mercian, and Valiant - if he was being honest - had been both a bit terrified of him and very much in awe. It was like watching a god. By the time he’d finally gotten over his awe there’d been peace with Camelot, and another one of its sons in Merlin’s bed. And yet he hadn’t truly snapped until Arthur’s return, and he’d gone to Merlin finally, snarling and about to tell him everything when he realized that Merlin, for some reason, believed he’d been talking about the blonde. He’d been about to clear up the misunderstanding when he’d noticed the worry on Merlin’s face and had realized in that moment that he could use the rat against the sorcerer, and that if he played his cards right…

…and he _had_.

Merlin had _come_ to him. Merlin had accepted him. Merlin had opened up willingly around him and had been the first to ever take his length so wonderfully, so naturally, so fully. It had only proven to him what he’d known - Merlin had been made for Valiant’s cock, he just didn’t realize it yet, Valiant would just have to teach him. Any time Merlin was not at Bayard’s side Valiant would force him somewhere secluded and take him, glorying in being inside of the body he had been obsessed over for so many years. He very quickly learnt how to handle Merlin, how to keep him in line, how to say the right word, whisper the right threat towards Arthur, which would have Merlin fucking into his thrusts harder and groaning into his mouth in an effort to ‘take Valiant’s mind off of Arthur’. Honestly, Merlin probably thought he was being so clever and subtle, and yet he had never understood how each and every time he did something like that he fell deeper and deeper into Valiant’s trap.

The soon-to-be-king closed his eyes, and like always, the second he did one of the memories of his time with Merlin sprung to life before him.

_“I—I have to gooooo,” Merlin whined pitifully as he scratched at Valiant’s back. “You said you would stop after the last—-!” His eyes rolled in his sockets momentarily and a ripple visibly made its ways down his back. “Yo-you cannot keep—-!”_

_Valiant stared into the multiple reflections around the lounge chair that gave him such a full view of every aspect of the penetration and Merlin’s body’s reactions to it. “Did I?” He asked as he thrusted up into that quivering body. “I do not remember saying I would stop.”_

_“You_ **_did_** _,” Merlin informed him breathlessly, petulantly, his face twisted up._

_“No, I do not think I did,” Valiant responded after a moment’s thought, beginning to bounce the sorcerer roughly up and down his cock._

_“Valiant, I have duties—-!” Merlin sobbed out and grabbed at Valiant’s shoulders, holding onto them for dear life._

_“Fine.” Valiant stopped bouncing him. “I am sure Prince Arthur is not busy.” He waited a beat knowingly._

_Like always, Merlin rose to the bait, glaring angrily, darkly, at him. Like always, all it took was a threat issued to Arthur to change Merlin’s tune. “He is_ **_very_ ** _busy.” Merlin shifted his legs on the lounge to correct his position so that he was leaning chest to chest with Valiant. “So_ **_stop_ ** _thinking of him.” He began to move his hips, fucking himself on Valiant’s cock like an obedient little cockslave. “Do you not know that_ **_my_ ** _body is the only one that can naturally fit your monstrous cock inside of it?”_

_Yesssssssssssss. He_ **_did_** _. It was taking every bit of his self control not to say that, to play the part he needed to play to have - to keep - what he so desperately wanted._

_“You are not answering me, Valiant,” Merlin mumbled unhappily as he began to press nibbled kisses up his chest while shifting his hips in a way that always drove Valiant insane with lust. “Am I not a good little whore for you?” He knew what to say, how to say it, to make Valiant’s mind start going fuzzy with desire. “Is this monstrous cock inside of me not desperate to fill me with your warmth?”_

_“You’re my hole,” Valiant groaned, fighting to keep control of himself. “Say you are my hole, Merlin. I want to hear you say it.”_

_“I’m your hole, Valiant,” Merlin echoed obediently, always much more amenable after a threat or two towards Arthur. “I am spoiled and I don’t know my place, I think far too highly of myself, I need your cock to remind me of my place.”_

_It sent shivers up and down his spine and curled his toes. “Y-yeah? And what is your place, Merlin?”_

_Merlin started to kiss his way up Valiant’s neck. “Where do you_ **_want_ ** _it to be, Valiant?” He rubbed his nipples against Valiant’s chest as he leaned in to whisper in his ear. “What is your biggest fantasy, Valiant? What do you want the most? What do you close your eyes and think of when you are all alone and need some relief?”_

_“You really are_ **_too_ ** _mouthy and cocksure,” Valiant growled, not allowing himself to even think of his fantasy, and yet it still came out somewhat. “If only I had known you when you first came to the Mercian Court. I would have fucked that right out of you.”_

_Merlin absolutely froze. “You—you would have wanted that?”_

_“Gods below, yesssss,” Valiant groaned as he started to thrust even rougher at just the thought. “I would have taught you your place!”_

_Merlin trembled in what seemed like utter terror, which momentarily broke through his fog of lust. “I—I see.” His voice broke, sounded a little sick, a lot scared, and then he let out a stuttered breath. “Do you want me to look like that?”_

_This time Valiant was the one who froze, pulling away to look wide-eyed at the sorcerer. “Even_ **_you_ ** _cannot do magic of that sort!” And yet he could not only hear the feverish hunger in his tone but feel the way his cock throbbed inside of Merlin at the very thought._

_“If—if it makes the person desire me more—I—anything is possible—I think,” Merlin whispered softly, hoarsely, not making any sense. He looked paler than usual, very unsure of himself, as his blue eyes met Valiant’s. “Do you want that, Valiant? Will that keep you distracted? Keep you satisfied? Keep your attention solely on me?”_

_His attention was_ **_already_ ** _solely on Merlin, had been for_ **_so long_ ** _, and yet at the thought of seeing the version of Merlin he had fantasized for so many years finally riding his cock… Valiant came without warning, surprising the both of them with his instantaneous reaction to the very thought._

_He wanted to tell Merlin to do it, to use this amazing magic should he have it, and shift to that form, and yet at just the thought Valiant turned them around so Merlin was underneath him as he fucked into him savagely. His mouth swallowed and muffled Merlin’s sobs and screams. The burly, lust-crazed warrior brought Merlin’s hands to his back and encouraged him to scratch him, to draw blood, to mark Valiant’s body the same way Valiant was his insides._

_Merlin took his cock, his ferocity, his darkness, his_ everything _because Merlin was meant for him. Merlin was his. He just didn’t know it yet_.

A knock sounded on the door, pulling Valiant from his sweet memories in time for the door to open and the sorcerer himself to stand there, not having awaited Valiant’s call to enter. Merlin looked thinner than usual, much paler, and with dark bags under his eyes. It was clear that he had not been sleeping well - that the little rodent’s absence had played a very harsh number on him.

“What do you _want_ , Valiant?” Merlin entered the room and closed the door behind him, looking very much annoyed at having been summoned.

“Is that the respect you show your future king, Lord Merlin?” Valiant asked in amusement as he eyed the sorcerer up and down leisurely.

Rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger with a frustrated huff, Merlin took in a deep breath and looked up at him once more, blue eyes flashing with glorious anger. “What do you _want_ , _King_ Valiant?”

Refusing to show how much he enjoyed angering the sorcerer, Valiant merely raised an eyebrow at him. “I hear the prince has decided to make his stay in the castle less permanent. That’s Camelot loyalty for you. I understand why you are keeping his departure a secret for now, but surely you realize that you will not be able to much longer. Especially not with the crowning ceremony, and the ritual, happening so very soon.” He smirked. “How exactly do you plan on handling such a disgrace as a Master having his Consort run away from him like that? The shame alone must be unbearable.”

A muscle jumped in Merlin’s cheek, clearly not wanting to talk about Arthur or his sudden disappearance. “If you have merely called me here to—.”

“I have _called_ you, Lord Merlin, because you and I are partners in this war,” he declared, seeing the genuine surprise on Merlin’s face and encouraged by it. “I wish to be informed on how the ritual goes, and also wish to know what I may do to assist you in what you will be needing to do.”

Merlin blinked, and then blinked, and looked at him warily, head tilted. “You want to… _assist_ … me?”

“You might have problems seeing me as your king, Lord Merlin, but I have never truly stopped seeing you as Mercia’s Court Sorcerer,” he informed him as he drew nearer. “You and I must put away our differences, no matter the cause, and work together if we not only protect our people, but save Albion.”

There was more silence as Merlin eyes him in confusion. “What is the catch, King Valiant? Whatprice exactly are you looking for?”

“None,” he lied, having learnt much during his time with the sorcerer. “I want to have a long reign as a king, Merlin. I _want_ our people to survive this, and I understand that only working as one with you will that happen.” He moved closer, encouraged when Merlin didn’t move away, didn’t glare at him, merely tilted his head a little further in visible consternation. “We must be a unit, you and I, for Mercia’s sake.”

“You… you actually _mean_ that, don’t you?” Merlin asked in utter shock, which would be a bit insulting if it were not for the fact that Valiant had already accepted that being with Arthur had dumbed Merlin towards certain things. Those blue eyes narrowed on him suspiciously. “Is this because of our… _conversation_ the other night?”

It took all of Valiant to keep from reaching up to touch his neck in remembrance. He’d been scared and confused and furious when Merlin had used his magic to penetrate him that first night with Daegal, and yet the pleasure had quickly made him lose all reason - pleasure which hadvanished once Merlin had left and taken his magic with him. Valiant had tried to find that pleasure, that satisfaction, in Daegal alone yet while he found pleasure it was not even _close_ to what Merlin could give him. It was then that Valiant had understood the word ‘addictive’ which had been thrown around by Merlin’s previous lovers. It was as if being with him opened you up to pleasure you’d never experienced before, and apparently never _would_ once he left you. No one else would ever give you the same pleasure, it was almost as if Merlin’s body was _made_ to give pleasure - and left those who tasted it with an itch which no one else could even come close to scratching.

“Is this your way of placating me so there is no repeat performance?” Merlin pressed in very obvious suspicion.

Valiant didn’t quite hear him, instead remembering the Mesmer where Merlin taken him, physically. It had hurt, both his body and his ego, and yet by the end of it… Valiant loved fucking Merlin, he’d always known he would, he just had never expected to love being _fucked_ by Merlin. That - and the weakness that came from such violent, repeated use of his body - had left him in bed, recovering both from the brutality and from the shock of just how badly he wanted a repeat performance.

It was part of the reason why he’d called Merlin back the second he’d found out he was to be king. He’d wanted to provoke him, and he _had_ , and even though he had not gotten what he had been expecting - and had been sure he’d die - there’d been something about that abuse… He’d found himself nearly spilling into his own trousers countless times as his oxygen was being brutally deprived. He had not realized that might be a kink but it was and it appeared to be _his_. Of _course_ Merlin would be the one to show him it. Merlin was perfect for him in every way possible.

“Because I am not foolish enough to—.”

“ _Lord Merlin_ ,” Valiant interrupted in a cool tone. “It will be my crowning ceremony tomorrow, and I wish for you to stand by my side as the Court Sorcerer would. No matter our differences, I truly believe we will be the best chance our kingdom has of surviving, but only if we are of one mind.”

Merlin just _stared_ at him in confusion, clearly not completely believing him, yet visibly intrigued with the proposition despite this. “Do not think that I do not sense that you have an ulterior motive, King Valiant, but while I am loathed to admit it, you are _right_.” He let out a heavy sigh, clearly _very_ frustrated to have to do so. “If we are to win this war you and I will have to find a way of working together without wanting to murder the other.”

Valiant fought his grin because it would not do to let Merlin realize just how happy this news made him, it would most definitely make him suspicious considering it would appear that Arthur had fucked off before actually revealing to the sorcerer what he had discovered that same day. It was good. If Merlin knew of Valiant’s true intentions his heckles - his defenses - would be up. While they still were up, even now, they were for a completely different reason, which meant that he wouldn’t see Valiant’s gameplay coming.

Merlin was his, he just did not know it yet, but it would be fun teaching him.

 

* * *

 

“Have you seen Sir Geraint anywhere? I have been searching for him high and low.”

Daegal raised an eyebrow. While the question had not been asked to _him_ this was about the fourth person he’d heard asking for the whereabouts of someone else. Was it _him_ or where people just… disappearing? No one else seemed to really think it all too weird, just figuring that their friends were somewhere trying to ‘work off’ the effects of the dark moon - and to be honest, with the amount of rutting happening all over the castle it was most probably the case - but Daegal still couldn’t help but think it odd.

Then again that could not be the case all things considered, and even if it were it would have caused some sort of upheaval in the castle. So if Sir Lancelot wasn’t causing a fuss about it that meant that people _could not_ be actually _disappearing_ , they _had_ to be somewhere with someone, trying to work off the frenzy caused due to the upcoming dark moon. Honestly, while the rituals and dark magics made the Mercians stronger, more threatening, the castle was now in chaos thanks to that very same dark magic, and it made it far more vulnerable than anyone wanted to admit.

This was what happened when humans tried to harness magic that was not theirs to do so, their bodies mutated, became something not quite human, and made them all live on the brink of insanity. There was no doubt in his mind that pushing these already unstable men so strongly while being so close to the dark moon would make them completely lose not only their humanity, but their _minds_. Why anyone would want to go through these rituals, or be joined with those who performed them, was beyond his understanding. 

The only one who did not seem being driven mad by the approaching dark moon was Merlin himself, and while some might say that his self-imposed exile to the tower might be signs that he was cracking as well, it was more than obvious that he was merely concentrating on the rituals. Every single time Merlin needed to craft a new one, to modify one, he locked himself away, most probably to keep from being distracted. So no, Daegal was not counting this as him being affected. 

It didn’t surprise him, though, that Merlin was able to withstand it. Merlin was different. Merlin was better. Merlin was terrifyingly powerful yet unexpectedly kind, which was a combination Daegal had never quite encountered before. Merlin was—-Merlin was wasted on the Mercian Court, and Daegal could not understand why Merlin could not see that.

“Considering that Montague is also missing I give you _one_ guess as to where Geraint has disappeared to,” another voice snickered.

“ _Ahhhhhhhhhh_.”

Yes. Merlin was not like the rest of these vulgar beasts. 

Daegal just wondered how long it would take for Merlin to realize it himself.

* * *

 

“If I am being completely honest, Merlin, you look like utter horse shit,” Cassius mumbled as he stared at the younger man over the small containers that covered the table between them. There was not only concern etched on his face, but some confusion as well. “I am also _very_ surprised that you have not gone after Arthur to convince him to return, to keep him safely hidden in a cage somewhere until the war is over and all danger has passed. You’re clearly suffering since you two have been separated, and while I understand his reasons I do not understand yours for allowing this, especially when it is clearly affecting you. He is your Consort, Merlin, he should be _here_ , with _you_ ** _not_** —-.”

“Do you honestly think I have not thought about that?” Merlin collapsed into a seat and held his hands in his hair, looking older, thinner, much more tired, than he had in a very long time. “But I have to trust him, his plan, and have to let it play out however it ends up playing out.”

“No, you do **not** , you **are** his Master,” Cassius muttered in unease. “If it is affecting you this greatly then **use** that power and **order** him to—.”

“No.” Merlin shook his head while running his hands down his face, clearly far too tired to truly argue his case.

“Then _feed_ ,” Cassius ordered. “Arthur cannot begrudge you this if it is _his_ fault that your emotions have you this depleted.”

“It is not just that, I—I am constantly having to—glamor—myself.” Merlin bit back the words in nausea.

Cassius’ eyes widened in understanding. “Your demonic form?” He may not have actually seen it, but as Julius’ apprentice he had heard about it, and knew more than most people in the castle did. “Is it not going away?”

Merlin shook his head. “It will not, and _that_ , along with my worry, is what is so quickly depleting me.”

Slamming his hands down on the table, Cassius leaned forwards. “Then you _must_ feed, Merlin. Before tomorrow night. How can you expect to do what has to be done at the coronation if you are this weak?”

Merlin didn’t answer.


	6. Chapter 6

The castle was brimming with activity, no matter what one’s feelings towards the new king, the excitement of the coronation was infectious. Servants hustled to and fro, guards tightened up around the stations, and by the time the guests started to file into the large throne room the excitement in the room was alive like magic, almost crackling around them. Not only was the king to be crowned tonight, but tomorrow started off the pairing of the Swain, who still were not completely ready but they were more prepared than any other of their kind had been, so it would have to do as they would be going with the warriors to war.

Valiant had informed Merlin that he was not to perform the ritual until the night of the battle, and while Merlin could not believe that the king was risking doing this so close to the dark moon a very dark part of Merlin understood the reasoning. When Valiant had said they would unleash their insanity on the enemy he had not been lying. At that point the men would be close to mindless animals driven by their darkest, most inhuman impulses, at which point they would be let loose on the enemy to satiate their unhinged bloodlust. It was ruthless, it was savage, but it might work.

It was after the battle that the Swain would have their true first test, as they would have to welcome whatever returned from battle, be they human and cognizant or something else entirely. It was the Swain who would have to take that darkness inside of them until the warriors finally turned to some semblance of humanity, of rationality - if there was any hint of it left within them by that time, if not, the Swain may very well be trapped as the object of pleasure of some mindless, feral beast which only knew of bloodlust and the near-constant need to mate.

To be quite fair, Valiant was truly giving the whole situation his own brand of thought, which surprised Merlin, but he was relieved that the man was being amenable for once. Also, the man’s suggestions proved that he had truly been planning ahead. Quite a couple of his suggestions were not only innovative, but proved that he too had once been a mere soldier having to simultaneously battle wars while being affected by the dark magics warring inside of him. Unlike other kings, he had a more personal view of the plight the men would be going through, and many of his suggestions were not only good, but were being implemented and prepared for as they spoke.

One of those suggestions were the Breeding Wagons. While the rituals would not be conducted until the night of the battle, the dark moon would still be weighing heavily on the soldiers, and Valiant had come up with a design of specialized wagons which were designed to allow the soldiers to take turns rutting with the Swain. There would be an allotment of time before they would have to switch places to allow all the soldiers time to spill their accumulating darkness, while making sure that everyone had his turn for pleasure. 

Another one of his suggestions were the Breeding Saddles - and to be fair, most of Valiant’s suggestions were ‘breeding’ suggestions. The saddles though, were ingenious, as their unique design would allow the warriors not in the Breeding Wagons to still be able to penetrate their lovers while on horseback. It would not be as comfortable as the Breeding Wagons, but would allow the men to fuck into their holes without issue. Given the gait of the horses the men would not even have to thrust their hips, would just have to keep their cocks buried inside and let the momentum do everything for them.

Honestly, by the time they would make it to camp each night the Swain, the lovers, and the pets, would all be exhausted. They might end up the true casualties of the war, but given the nature of their purpose he doubted they would truly mind it after a while, in fact, the more time a Master spent inside of his sex slave, the more needy said slave became, the more unnatural it started to feel not to be filled. So yes, by the time the war was over the Swain might very well find it more than a little uncomfortable to live without being penetrated by their warrior. Just look at Cadman and Fionn, and Lindsay and Roland as perfect examples of lovers who were so used to being used by their Masters constantly that they grew aggravated and desperate if they were not fucked often enough.

Obviously Arthur did not suffer from this affliction, otherwise he would have not only _not_ come up with this excruciating plan of his, but would have also been unable to go through with it so easily, so seamlessly. Merlin understood why Arthur had decided and done what he had, he did, but that did not mean that a part of him didn’t resent his mate’s decision or the fact that the prince had planned and decided upon this specific course of action, even when it kept them apart. The cambion was suffering without his Consort, he wasn’t even being melodramatic when he said that, he truly _was_ suffering. He couldn’t sleep, his demon was in anguish at being apart and worrying over the mate, food made Merlin queasy and nightmares plagued him every time he closed his eyes. He wanted Arthur. He missed Arthur. He needed Arthur. And yet, as each day had passed without some word from his mate, some indication of whether he was okay, or needed help, or would allow Merlin to come to him, without even a note to say he at least missed Merlin - well - he grew _hurt_. Was he the only one suffering? Was he the only one with this soul-crushing loneliness?

There was no doubt in his mind that Arthur loved him, but he was very much beginning to doubt that the blonde actually _needed_ him. Arthur loved him, wanted him, but he very obviously didn’t _need_ him. And that was terrifying, because each second away from Arthur proved painfully to Merlin that _he_ needed _Arthur_. And it wasn’t mutual. And that was terrifying because you did not put up with things you did not need. Want could disappear and love could fade. Need, on the other hand? You _needed_ to breathe. You _needed_ to eat. You _needed_ to sleep. Those were things that - if one went without - one would die. Taking all of that into consideration Merlin _needed_ Arthur. He needed him more than he needed to breath. He needed him more than he needed to eat. He needed him more than he needed to sleep. But Arthur did _not_ need Merlin.

And that knowledge made breathing very painful.

_He will need you even less when he finally has his kingdom returned to him_. _He loves you, he wants you there, he desires you - but you cannot give him what he wants - no, not wants, what he_ ** _actually_** _needs. You cannot give him a child to further his lineage. Arthur does not_ ** _need_** _you, but he_ ** _needs_** _that child, that heir._ ** _You_** _are not_ ** _needed_** _._

Merlin closed his eyes tightly and grabbed his hair as his breathing accelerated rapidly, emotion suffocating him.

“I love the special masks those soldiers are wearing,” someone whispered to someone else while eyeing the groups of soldiers in question. “It really denotes the iron-will Valiant promises to bring to our kingdom.”

_Look at you. Arthur was right when he told you in that village that you were pathetic. You_ ** _are_** _pathetic. You are like a child. You are weak, Merlin. No wonder he does not need you. Then again, maybe he is being smart. Your parents needed you. Bayard needed you. Bayard’s child needed you. And look at how needing you left them. Arthur is smart not to need you. That is probably the only reason why he is still alive_.

Even with his eyes closed tightly Merlin could feel the room spinning uncontrollably all around him, causing nausea to well up inside of him sickeningly. He clenched his teeth, refusing to prove to everyone in the room just how messed up he was, how weak, how pathetic. Keeping up the glamor was draining him even quicker than he had expected. He’d known that being without Arthur during this time would be hard for him to handle, but he hadn’t realized it would be this bad.

_You are weak._ **You are weak. _YOU ARE WEAK!_**

A whimper tried to escape his lips but his clenched teeth kept the horrid sound trapped within his mouth. 

“I agree, they are cold, emotionless, and inhuman, it is fitting,” someone else mumbled with approval.

_How many people have you let down, Merlin? How many? Too many to count? To name? Let us see. Let us try. Shall we start with father and Hunith? And your mother? What happened to all three of them was because of you, even if it was indirectly your father’s murder, Hunith’s curse, and your mother’s pain - it was all caused because you were born - because of your ignorant, stubborn, selfish decisions. If you had just gone with your mother when she came looking for you - if you had just taken her clawed hand when she outstretched it to you - your father would still be alive, Hunith would not be cursed, and your mother would not have had her precious feelings trampled on and destroyed._

Merlin could feel his glamor weakening with his internal struggle, and he fought viciously to keep it up, tearing at fistfuls of his own hair so that the pain could help ground him. It helped somewhat, and yet it was taking all he had.

“And they look _delicious_ ,” yet another chuckled darkly. “I can see a few I will be approaching tonight once the festivities begin.”

Despite having sworn to himself not to pay the masked guard any mind tonight, Merlin opened his eyes, desperate to see them, desperate to see—-. And yet, when he opened his eyes, he found himself utterly alone in the room, which was not the throne room at all. No. This was somewhere else entirely. This was a place Merlin had not been to in many years. This was _home_.

Confusion filled Merlin as he took a step, and another, in confusion. He spun around slowly, able to see the large hosting room exactly as he remembered it. The place was warm, the lights lit, and the smell of something sweet in the air. Nostalgia and longing filled him as he hurried towards the door, following the scent down the long stone hallway, peering out each window to see the land Bayard had given Balinor as a wedding present - the land that had been Merlin’s stomping ground as a child - his inheritance.

He opened doors, hurried down hallways, and everything was as he remembered it. The years of abandonment did not show on anything, there was no dirt, no cobwebs, nothing to betray how many years it had been since he’d walked these halls, entered these rooms.

_‘…might find…’_

Merlin looked up at the faint sound of the voice. There should be no voice. There should be no one here. _Who_ was here? Eyes narrowed, he hurried down the hallway, following the sound of that voice before stopping in front of his father’s personal library. There was light coming in from under the door, as well as shadows that betrayed movement on the other side.

Fury filled him at the realization that someone was trespassing. Someone _dared_ break into his home.

Clenching his fist, Merlin threw the door opened and stormed inside only to freeze in horror at what he saw.

Balinor Dragonlord turned towards him in surprise. “What is it Merlin?” He chuckled a little nervously while closing what appeared to be a secret compartment inside of the large orb in front of him. “You look as if you have seen a ghost.” He turned to the man at his side. “Does he not, Tauren?”

The other man with Balinor nodded, eyebrow raised. “Is everything alright, Merlin? You _do_ look paler than usual, which is a feat in and of itself.”

Merlin stared at both men in shocked, confused horror. “What—-? _How_ —?”

Balinor shook his head in amusement and moved towards Merlin, picking the surprised cambion up in his arms with a little groan. “Your mother is right, champion, you _are_ far too old to hold in my arms. How the years have flown, I used to be able to pick you up and hold you up so easily.”

“Maybe you are just getting too old,” Tauren teased from his other side. “He is still a ridiculously skinny thing, so despite his age you should still not have that much problem to do so unless you are ancient.”

“ _Fie_ you,” Balinor grumbled and then flinched as he turned to Merlin with wide eyes. “Do not tell your mother you heard me say that. She has _yet_ to forgive me for you knowing the meaning of _cuckold_ \- much less the actual word _._ ”

Merlin nodded dutifully, used to keeping things from mother for father.

“You have to stop treating him like a child, Balinor,” Tauren sighed tiredly with a shake of his head. “No matter how much you want to believe otherwise he is not one anymore. You had your first kill before his age.”

“I do not treat him like a child,” Balinor huffed in frustration only to pout when Tauren motioned to the fact that he was still holding him. “It is a test of my back’s strength. Nothing more.” And with that he lowered Merlin back down as if to prove his point. “Son, you have yet to tell us why you burst in here so forcefully.”

Merlin opened his mouth to answer yet found himself unable to quite remember _why. “_ I thought someone had broken into our home.”

“And you thought the best course of action was to _attack_?” Tauren raised an eyebrow in utter shock at this revelation. “I do not know whether to applaud your courage or condemn your ego. Either way, your balls are bigger than your brains.”

A pout pursed Merlin’s lips. “No they are not. I just—-I just—-.” He could not remember why he had thought it a good idea, and to be honest, felt really embarrassed right now given his godfather’s obvious mockery.

Chimes echoed in the room, causing Balinor to look surprisingly panicked seconds before a figure stepped out of the fire in the grand fireplace. The figure almost looked made of flames expect was clearly tangible, otherworldly beautiful. Its features were sharp, its eyes almost blinding with its intensity.

Balinor glanced back at Merlin and gulped. “Uh, Merlin, this is—-uh—.”

“Your father needs to talk to his friend in private,” Tauren declared as he motioned with his head towards the door. “Come on, that gives you and me some time alone for you to tell me _all_ about how you planned on taking down multiple intruders given the fact that you can barely manage a half decent candle-lighting spell.”

“The current of air from the open window was _strong_ in that room, _that_ was the only reason I had a problem lighting it,” Merlin muttered as he followed his godfather out of the room, turning to Tauren as he closed the door behind them. “I _can_ light candles.”

“So what? Your plan was to _set the mood_?” The man snickered as he motioned for Merlin to join him at the bay window a little ways from the door. “This is Mercia, Merlin, I know your father is erroneously trying to keep you innocent of what exactly that means, but let me tell you that that would be very counterproductive.”

It always felt like his godfather was on the verge of telling him something monumental, and yet always teetered on that edge while never actually falling over and spilling it. That was annoying. Merlin wasn’t a kid anymore. “What do you mean father is trying to keep me innocent of what Mercia really means?”

Tauren tilted his head and eyed Merlin silently before motioning to the door. “Do you know what that was in there?”

“Do you mean _who_?” Merlin asked curiously.

“No. _What_.” Tauren shook his head. “In that same vein, what are _you_ , Merlin?”

Blinking in confusion at the question, Merlin shifted on the window seat to face his godfather. “I am a sorcerer. And a Dragonlord.”

There was a strange look in his eyes, a nearly mocking one, before he cleared his throat and merely raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly does that make you?”

Once more Merlin was not quite sure what to answer. His godfather usually asked him questions he wasn’t sure he could answer, and that annoyed him greatly. It made him feel like an idiot, but it also made him question things he never would have, push himself to learn things he never would have, and he supposed it was this continuous challenge that made him like his godfather. “A… sorcerer from the Dragonlord family?”

“Wrong, try again.”

His pout grew as he tried to think it through a little more. “A magic-user?”

A huff of annoyance escaped Tauren’s lips as he turned his gaze to stare out of the window. “Maybe I was wrong, maybe you _are_ still a child.”

Frustration coiled in Merlin’s chest, always hating it when he felt like his was letting his godfather down. He was a sorcerer. He was a Dragonlord. So what did that make him? _What did that make him_? As a sorcerer he had magic, was a magic user, and yet that was clearly not the answer Tauren wanted. That meant he wanted Merlin to focus not on the sorcery but on the other part of his answer. On the Dragonlord. Merlin did not know much about it, his father kept telling him he would explain things better when he was old, but clearly Tauren thought he was old enough to know now, and Merlin agreed. The little he knew about his parents’ family was pathetic, now that he thought about it, all he knew was that actual dragons were somehow involved - just not _how_. So all that he was left with to try and piece together what Tauren wanted to hear was from the name itself: Dragonlord. Lord of dragons… and while that sounded very cool there were no dragons being lorded over so clearly the name was not to be taken literally.

That meant maybe it was supposed to be taken _figuratively_.

Dragonlord. Dragon lord. Lord of dragons. Lord… of _what_?

Merlin’s eyes narrowed in confusion before he looked up at his godfather. “I am a lord.” When Tauren finally looked away from the window to him, Merlin realized he must be going in the right direction, so he pressed on. “It m-makes me… it makes me…” He was thinking furiously, trying to make a connection, and then… “Does it make me… it doesn’t make me a…” He eyed Tauren in confusion. “Are we supposed to _rule_ something?”

All mockery was gone from that face as Tauren smiled and reached over to pat Merlin’s head in reward like he did every single time Merlin did something to please him. “You are far smarter than your father wants to give you credit for, Merlin. He should not baby you the way he does, and you should not let him. He is doing you a disservice, he is treating you as an inferior, as someone not mature enough, or smart enough, to be able to understand ” His eyes narrowed. “But you and I know that that is not the case. We both know that you are not a child anymore and should be treated accordingly.”

Merlin nodded his agreement to those words. “I am mature enough, smart enough, to understand.”

A slow smile touched those lips as his hand continued to rub Merlin’s hair. “Do you want to know what that was in there?”

Up until that moment he had not really cared, but now he wanted to know with every fibre of his being. “Yes.”

“First I must show you something, but you must show how mature you are, you must be quiet, no matter what. Make no sound.” He held his hand out to Merlin, voice a challenge. “Can you do that?”

Nodding rapidly, Merlin grabbed his godfather’s hand and followed him back towards the door, a little confused as to why they were going back when Tauren had said Balinor needed time to talk to his friend. He kept his questions to himself though as the door opened soundlessly, revealing the noises that had been completely silenced by the wood. They were groaned, breathless, sounded almost painful.

Tauren touched his fingers to his lips in reminder before they entered the room and the door closed behind them. He tightened his grip on Merlin’s hand and led him around the desk that was obscuring their view.

And that was when Merlin saw it.

His father was seated on the floor, and there, on his lap, rode the thing of fiery light. Balinor’s clothes were singed from where it touched him, but his skin… everywhere the being touched him his normally pale skin almost looked like green scales. Both he and this fire/light creature were making the sounds that the door had magically kept silent, Balinor’s trousers on the floor. He rocked much like one might on a rocking chair, and it was on one of those rocks that Merlin realized that his father was inside of this being of light the same way he would be with Merlin’s mother. They were tupping. 

Merlin looked up at Tauren in confusion, but his godfather merely grabbed the top of Merlin’s head and forced him to look back at his father and watch.

“ _I am going to come inside of you,”_ Balinor groaned lustfully into its ear. “ _I am going to bestow the highest honor to you, my little whore_.”

The being sobbed and held on tighter, its voice like chimes as it gasped.

“ _Yessss, spread yourself more, open up for your king’s seed,”_ Balinor ordered as he rocked them backwards and forwards rougher and rougher until he grunted and twisted as if in pain, pulling the being tighter, burning the front of his shirt completely. He whispered into its ear before small tremors rocked through his body and he groaned, kissing it languidly as he shifted position slightly and began to slowly thrust up inside of it.

The being’s light throbbed like a heartbeat as it arched and curled its hips.

“ _Do not worry, you will get much more of me,_ ” Balinor promised throatily, clearly pleased, before suddenly he looked up and noticed Merlin and Tauren. His eyes widened and his face paled in horror, his hands going to the being’s hips only to groan and whimper when those hips began to circle on his lap. Shame and humiliation darkened on his face as he shifted a glare towards Tauren, but then that body started lifting and lowering itself on him, and with a cry he buried his mortified face into its hair and began to move once more.

Tauren leaned down to whisper into Merlin’s ear. “Do you still want to know what that is, Merlin? Do you want to know what your father is giving his seed to so desperately? Do you want to know what faithfully keeps him company in his loneliest hours?”

Merlin’s throat was dry, he did not think he could talk if he wanted to, so he merely nodded, unable to look away from what he was watching.

“The answer to your question is: yes, your family _are_ meant to rule,” Tauren whispered hoarsely, breathlessly, in his ear as he leaned in so close his nose was buried in his hair. “And the fae know that better than anyone else."

Eyes widening in shock, Merlin turned to look at Tauren only to find him gone, the home gone, and instead he was back to the throne room, which was once more filled with people.

“ ** _Merlin!_** ”

He looked down, realizing that someone had him by the hand and was shaking him urgently. “Daegal?”

The druid looked up at him in worry. “What just happened to you?” He looked around nervously before moving closer. “You wouldn’t respond, no matter how hard I shook you.” Confusion and stark worry flittered over his face. “You do not look well, Merlin. Where is Arthur? Why is he not with you? He _should be_ with you.”

Merlin brought his hand to his head, that memory having assailed him so incredibly—-.

“ _Merlin_ ,” Lancelot called as he made his way towards them in the crowded hall. “It is time, he is looking for you.”

Taking in a deep breath, Merlin exhaled and forced a smile on his face. “Do not worry, Daegal, I was just lost in my own thoughts.”

“That was not just you being lost in thought,” Daegal countered immediately with a quick shake of his head. “Merlin, you need to listen to me, something is—-.”

“Merlin!” Lancelot reached them. “Come, friend. It is _time_.” He gave Merlin a meaningful look before pulling him behind him.

Merlin shot an apologetic look over his shoulder at Daegal before righting himself and following Lancelot at a sedated pace.

“Cassius was right,” Lancelot mumbled darkly under his breath despite the bright smile plastered on his face. “You look like horse shit.”

“Your friendship always lightens my darkest days,” Merlin monotoned though his own fake smile for their audience. 

“I see _someone_ is moody,” Lancelot declared with a snicker. “Arthur will have quite the job getting your spirits back up when he has accomplished what he has set out to do.”

Even Merlin’s fake smile lost some of its shine. 

Lancelot chanced a little sideways glance at him and _his_ fake smile lessened. “That should have made you smile, even if only a little, Merlin. What is wrong?”

“What is not wrong?” Merlin wanted to know. “Everything is wrong. Lancelot. And I am tired of everything being wrong.”

Lancelot’s head actually turned to him as his smile slipped completely from his face. “Merlin? What happened?”

Merlin caught sight of Sir Lindsay and Roland in the crowd, the two smiling at each other as if loathed to even look away from the other. It caused something dark to clench painfully in his stomach.

**_That_ ** _is what a Consort and Master should be like._ **_That_ ** _is devotion._ **_That_ ** _is need._ **_They_ ** _need each other._

He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head with a flinch. “ _Shut up_.”

“Merlin?” Lancelot sounded worried. “Merlin, what is—-?”

“ _Lord Merlin_.”

Taking in a deep breath, Merlin opened his eyes at that voice and met Valiant’s expectant gaze. “I apologize if I made you wait,” he declared, leaving Lancelot where he was to join Valiant up on the dais before turning to the multitude gathered inside of the throne room, which as always was magicked to fit all those who entered. In the very back of the rooms, once the last of the servants entered (as the whole Court were required to attend a coronation) Cassius locked the doors. “We have had much turmoil in our Court, much backstabbing, much disappointment and sadness and cause for grief, for mourning.” He stared through the crowd, easily finding Sophia as she was the only female in the crowd, and had most probably chosen this form just to annoy Valiant due to his having sent the women all away. “We have lost our king, we have lost his child, and we have lost much of our sense of safety, of self.” He stared at the darkening faces around him, all unable to deny his words. “We have found ourselves unsafe in our own bedrooms, and with a massive army bearing down on us. We have found ourselves questioning ourselves, our loved ones, our relationships.” He took in a deep breath and raised his chin. “But tonight we _stop_ losing. Tonight we start reclaiming everything that Camelot, its king, and his sorcerer have taken from us.”

Those around him in the crowd stared up at him expectantly, listening intently. Valiant had been telling the truth when he’d stated that Merlin’s show of support, of recognition, would mean something to the Court, it was obvious in the looks on their faces. They knew better than anyone that Merlin and Valiant did not get along, so the fact that the cambion was there, officiating the coronation, spoke volumes to those present.

“Lord Valiant stands here as the last living member of King Bayard’s bloodline, he is not a direct family member, as his bloodline descended from King William’s uncle and not the king himself as did King Bayard, but he is Mercian, he is a warrior, and he is now our king.” He could see people nodding in the crowd. “Our King is dead, our Heir is dead, but Valiant still lives, and in him the blood of our forefathers lives on.” He held his hand out, magic flashing in his eyes as the crown moved from the blue cushion it was rested upon and appeared in his hands. “Our King is dead, Our Heir is dead.” He rested the crown on Valiant and felt a little ill to his stomach when he met the man’s eyes as he proclaimed: “Long Live The King.”

“LONG LIVE THE KING!” The crowd yelled out. “LONG LIVE THE KING!”

Merlin let his hands drop and turned to the crowd gathered there. “LONG LIVE THE KING!”

“LONG LIVE THE KING!”

“LONG LIVE THE KING!”

“LONG LIVE THE KING!”

Valiant smiled as he stepped forwards, motioning with one hand for them to taper down the yells, and once they died down he addressed the court. “I understand that there are still some of you who do not approve of my wearing this crown, but I promise you all that I will not only avenge our Kingdom, but I will avenge King Bayard and his child. We will take the battle to Camelot, we will meet them, and we will make them rue the day that they ever dared set their sights on Mercia!”

Yells and chants of approval began to raise within the crowd.

“Together, we will drive their forces into the dirt, we will crush them beneath our feet,” Valiant promised as he placed his free hand on Merlin’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “Merlin and I swear that we will work together, as a unit, as _one_ , with a singular purpose. Nothing will be as important to us as Mercia’s future, as _you_.”

The yells and chants grew.

Merlin tried not to show the confusion and slight panic on his face at this. While he _had_ agreed to help with the war the way Valiant was wording this made it sound as if… He caught Sophia’s worried expression in the crowd seconds before she turned and started pushing her way through the crowd and away from the dais, seeming to be heading somewhere particular with singular determination.

“We will work together, King and Sorcerer, to remind _everyone_ why they fear Mercia! We will be bound solely to your cause, to the betterment of Mercia, as our predecessors have!” Valiant declared loudly as he squeezed Merlin’s shoulder. “ _Nothing_ will—.”

Merlin turned his head towards the king to subtly stop him before he could say something that would… only to blink when dizziness flittered through him and he blinked once more to find the one with his hand on his shoulder, staring down at him, was his father.

Balinor sighed as he eyed Merlin tiredly. “I understand that that must have come as a shock to you. Your godfather had no right doing what he did, but I am loathed to admit that he had a point that you are old enough to know.”

“To know _what_?” Merlin wasn’t sure what exactly he wanted to know, there were so many questions rattling off in his head. “Do you not love mother?”

“Yes! I love her! I have done _so much_ out of my love for her,” his father assured him quickly. “And your mother, she _knows_.”

“She does?” Merlin asked in surprise. 

“Yes.” Balinor nodded with a heavy sigh. “We are Mercian, and we are Dragonlords, combined that… there is much you are not ready to know of, Merlin, but I will tell you this much.” He ran his free hand through his dark locks. “Do you remember the time we spent with King Bayard? You were very young, so you might not—-.”

Merlin nodded. “Yes, I remember. He was nice to me.”

“Yes, he was, he cared for you deeply in the little time we were with him.” Balinor looked surprised that Merlin remembered Bayard, but also looked encouraged. “Well. You see, he is the ruler of our kingdom. And he is also my friend. A very _good_ friend.” He made a face. “We were with him because his wife died and he wished to die as well, so you and I went to stay with him until he was feeling better and did not want to die as well.”

Not quite sure what this had to do with anything, Merlin just stared up at his father silently,expectantly.

“You will not know of this as we live such isolated lives here, but our culture… your mother not only knows about what I do, but she has her own lovers as well, and not just female but male, because I want her to be happy. And she wants _me_ to be happy. And, we are together, we choose to live together, and we know - and the others know - that they are not important to us, not in the way we are to each other.” Balinor tightened his grip on Merlin’s shoulder. “Sex is a wonderful thing, Merlin, and in a few years you will no doubt experience it as well. There will be a part of you that awakens the first time you take - or are taken - and it might be scary but do not worry because I will be there every step of the way to guide you. I will be here to listen to your fears and answer your questions. You will not be alone. And you will also have your godfather who you can go to for advice and for counseling, he is a pain but he is always thinking of you.”

Merlin stared up at his father, trying to digest what he was hearing. “What _was_ that, papa? What was that being? Godfather called it a fae but aren’t they all gone? Disappeared? And why did you call yourself its king?” He leaned in closer. “Are you a _fae_ , papa?”

“No, son, I am not a fae.” Balinor cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “And while I—I am not the king of the fae, that was just—once you are older I will explain.”

“Stop treating me like a child, papa, I am smart enough - mature enough - to know,” Merlin grumbled, his godfather’s words ringing in his ears. “If some part of you did not believe the same you would have stopped when you realized godfather had brought me into the room.”

“I would not have been able to stop either way,” he father sighed heavily, clearly very tired. “I was in the middle of a frenzy, I could not have stopped even if I desperately wanted to. That was something your godfather knew and exploited, although I cannot quite understand the reason behind his actions. _Or_ why he sat you down with him and made you watch until it was all over. It must have been very confusing for you, Merlin, and I apologize that you had to find out in that way.”

Frenzy? What was he talking about? “Papa, what do we rule?”

Balinor went pale. “Who told you that?”

“LONG LIVE THE KING!”

Loud cheers echoed around him, and Merlin turned towards it to find himself in the throne room once more, staring at the crowd in front of him in utter disorientation. What was happening to him? Why was he flickering between memory and the present?

“We must toast a drink to the king!” Lancelot declared from the sideline.

Recognizing the cue, Merlin held up his hand as his eyes flashed with magic, summoning a goblet into his hands, as well as the hands of every other person in the throne room. “To the king!”

“TO THE KING!”

As one, the whole Court drank from the goblets.

Merlin stopped right before the liquid could seep into his mouth, his eyes on those in the throne-room, finding Sophia talking urgently to one of the guards seconds before the first person dropped to the ground and started to convulse. 

It was Sir Xavier.

More and more people dropped, convulsing on the ground to the horror and confusion of those around them. The masked guard hurried forwards, as did Cassius and Lancelot.

“What is happening?” Valiant asked in hissed confusion as he looked around him, his drink sloshing around in his goblet with his movements. “Are we being attacked?”

Merlin turned to him, eyes flashing gold as Valiant, and all of those not affected by the potion, fell to the floor in magically induced, and sustained, sleep. His body swayed, using that amount of power while in his condition weakening him to the point here his knees gave out on him and he hit the dais painfully.

“MERLIN!” A voice yelled as one of the guards removed his mask to reveal a wide-eyed Arthur who hurried towards him.

He was not the one who reached him first though.

Daegal loomed over Merlin, eyes wide in horror. “Are you _trying_ to kill yourself? If you had just _listened_ to me—-!”

Merlin groaned as the world tilted yet he managed to keep himself conscious, his glamor on, and the people asleep. “How are you still standing, Daegal? Only those affected by the potion are supposed to be awake.”

“I will answer all of your questions later,” Daegal promised as he knelt down next to him and cupped his face. “Now _feed_.” And with that he leaned down, pressing his lips to Merlin’s in a kiss.

There were so many questions that Merlin had, but he pushed them away as his demon surged, hungry. It desperately took what was being offered, and the second Merlin was strong enough he shifted to be sitting and kissed the druid harder, consuming the arousal that emitted from the druid’s pores. He clutched Daegal tighter as he continuedto eat, eat, eat, until his demon warned him, and he stopped himself, resting his head against Daegal’s shoulder as he breathed heavily. “Did I—-did I take too——?”

“ _Shhhhhhhhhh_ , I am okay, Merlin,” Daegal whispered sleepily as he caresses his hair. “You have better control over the demon than I thought you did, you stopped right before I could not take it anymore.” He chuckled softly. “Then again, you _are_ the Prince, I should not have underestimated you despite your lack of training.”

Merlin lifted his head to stare up into Daegal’s face in surprise. “ _How do you know that_?” **Very** few people knew for a fact that Merlin was a cambion - very few **living** people knew that it was through his mother _and_ father - hell - **Arthur** was the only living person who knew that Merlin’s mother was the Succubus Queen! So how in the hells did _Daegal_ know about it?

Daegal smiled a little sheepishly at him. “You are going to have a lot of questions I will answer every single one I can… when I wake up.” He yawned and begun to slur his words in sleep. “Just—-while I am sleeping—- _please_ do not hurt the changelings—I swear on Sophia Dragonlord that you will understand everything once I—-.” And with that he slouched forwards into Merlin’s arms, beginning to snore immediately.

Staring down into Daegal’s sleeping face, Merlin’s eyes just widened and widened. How much did Daegal know? _How_ did he know so much? What was going on?

Stumbling to his feet, he lifted Daegal into his arms, he was still very weak but better now that he’d fed a little. He would need to feed again though, and soon, especially if they would need to keep Mercia asleep while they waited on Daegal to explain exactly _why_ they should not be killing the changelings.

“Merlin!” Arthur finally reached him once he stepped off of the dais. “Are you—what—?” His eyes were wide and his face pallid. “You look like horse shit.”

“Yes, according to everyone, I do,” Merlin agreed with a sad smile at his mate. “I am going to take Daegal to our quarters. Have the men detain the changelings in the cells you have prepared for them, but do not hurt them, not yet.”

“Lancelot can do that,” Arthur declared with a shake of his head as he eyed Merlin up and down in worry. “How much has been away from me deteriorated your energy reserves? It should not have been this drastic, it was only a couple of days!”

_Did you hear that? Only a couple of days. It was like an eternity for you to be apart from him, but for your Consort - who should be feeling the same pain of separation that you are - it was 'only' a couple of days._

Merlin flinched and closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head against those words.

_Clearly he doesn’t need you, Merlin. He loves you, he’s protective of you, and he wants to be with you - but he_ **_doesn’t_ ** _need you. Not like you_ **_need_ ** _him. How long will it take for his love to turn to resentment when he has to constantly deny himself his position, his abilities, his life, to nurture you and yours? How much longer until he realizes that he has given up on his duty, on his destiny, to become your_ **_food_ ** _?_

The cambion felt nauseas and nearly jumped when the warmth touched his cold arm like sunlight, yet he managed to gulp back the sickness welling inside of him and forced a smile on his face as he opened his eyes to smile down at Arthur. “Arthur, you need to see your plan through, do you not?”

Arthur stared up at him searchingly, clearly worried about him.

**_You_ ** _are_ **_weak_** _. Despite merely being human Arthur is constantly having to be strong for_ **_you_** _, cannot even get a good night’s rest any longer, has to crawl out of bed into the cold of the night to comfort_ **_your_ ** _pathetic, crying self - has to weaken himself to constantly feed_ **_you_ ** _because_ **_you_ ** _are a parasite that lives off of him. He had to come up with this plan because_ **_you_ ** _were being nothing but a constant failure. He had to bear the burden of Excalibur because_ **_you_ ** _were too weak to fight the call it would make towards your dark side. He had to come to_ **_you_ ** _because_ **_you_ ** _could not see through a sword’s delusion._ **_You_ ** _did not pass that third test, Arthur did._ **_You_ ** _wallowed in self-pity, in self-doubt,_ **_you_ ** _were selfish, while he had to find_ **_you_ ** _and set_ **_you_ ** _back on the correct path once more. He has had to step up and do things no other Consort should have to because_ **_you_ ** _are a failure as protector of this kingdom, and a failure as a Master. He deserves better than_ **_you_** _, and_ **_you_ ** _know it._

No matter how much he wanted to deny those words, those horrible thoughts, he could not. They were true. Arthur was constantly having to be strong for him because Merlin was a burden.

_Yessss. You are._

A burden. A parasite. A complete failure to not only Arthur, but to Bayard, to Morgana, to the whole of Mercia.

_Weak. Cannot even stop the magic of a dead sorcerer from keeping a piece of yourself hidden and locked away from you. How pathetic can you be when you cannot even conquer a dead man’s ensorcellment? If you cannot win against the dead - how can you possibly hope to do so with the living?_

Horror and terror ad self-disgust battled inside of him.

_You cannot, Merlin. You know you cannot. And Arthur knows it too. It is why he is stepping up, why he is trying to protect you._

He found it harder and harder to breathe.

_It’s what is going to get him killed._

Merlin shook his head roughly against the thought. That wouldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let that happen. He would—he would die before he let that happen!

_If you really want that, if you_ **_really_ ** _want to save him, if you_ **_truly_ ** _love him more than you love your own parasitic existence - then you_ **_know_ ** _what you have to do._

The cambion’s eyes flew open in horror.

“ **Mer** _lin_!” Arthur’s grip on his was tight. “What is _wrong_ with you? Is it the lack of feeding? Sophia told me something was happening inside of you that has your draconic magic acting up painfully.”

Merlin turned his gaze on Arthur’s extremely worried face and tried to keep his own horror from showing. That was what he was hearing, wasn’t it? He was hearing the voice of his inner dragon. These were the _dragon’s_ thoughts. “I—.” He cleared his throat and forced the smile brighter. “I am just tired, Arthur, and it is taking a toll on my magic. After this I will need to rest, and I will be fine after that.” He motioned with his head to where the others were gathering the convulsing changelings. “Go. You know you need to handle this.”

Arthur looked between Merlin and the others, clearly conflicted.

“Go.” Merlin urged him, leaning down to press a kiss to his mate’s lips. “I will be in our quarters.”

The blonde looked even more conflicted before he glanced around and sighed. “I will come as soon as these changelings are in the special holdings we have prepared for them.” He looked up at Merlin. “Do you think the plan worked?”

Merlin nodded. “It was your plan, Arthur, I am sure it will.” 

Given the existence of the changelings Arthur’s plan had had to be tweaked. As soon as Merlin had finished brewing the potion (which he had managed in record time) the plan had been for him to find Arthur and take him to the tunnels under the castle. It had had to be done without Arthur’s foreknowledge of when he was to be taken, as the scent of his pain and fear had to be genuine to trick the changelings or anyone else who might be keeping an eye on them. Merlin had already gotten one or two of the knights Arthur had chosen, bringing them to the secret place, and once a few of them were already there they all took the potion, proving to each other that they truly were who they thought they were. Not only were they using the dark moon to hide their disappearance, but as Arthur had pointed out, taking each and every one without forewarning would leave the scents of fear and pain and confusion all over the castle and would confound their enemies - as fae were known to be more sensitive to the scents of emotions.

Whatever demon Sophia was mixed with made her sensitive to the scents as well, and she had managed to track them all the way to the underground tunnels. She’d found Arthur and the others where they were hiding, and after taking a swig of the potion to prove to the others that she was not a changeling, had been put to work helping them create the special holding cells that would house the changelings once they were discovered. Cassius and Lancelot had had two glasses of the potion sent to them, and Fionn, Owain, and others had been brought in to assist as well. Arthur had made the plan, chosen the players, and had been the one to point out that he and Merlin could not meet up during the lead up to the coronation as they had to sell the story that Arthur had left - and it would only happen if Merlin looked a little ragged from not feeding. This was all Arthur’s plan, and it had gone perfectly so far. The only thing not accounted for was Daegal and his knowledge of things he should not know.

_Of course it worked. It was Arthur’s plan. He is the true Champion of Mercia, of Albion. He is the True Heir. He is the Wielder of the Dragonblade. He is everything that is good and right in this world. What are_ **_you_** _?_

“I will come to you as soon as I have made sure they are all secured,” Arthur promised him. “You are right, I need to see this through.”

Nodding, Merlin shifted Daegal’s lightweight in his hand and continued walking on, leaving Arthur behind to continue proving himself to Mercia. He glanced at the changelings on his way towards the doors, which were now unlocked, Arthur’s inner circle working together to take them to the prison cells that had been prepared for them.

The cambion felt his glamor start to flicker so he put more power to it while making sure not to remove any of the power keeping the castle asleep. His eyes were a bit foggy, and his strength was slowly seeping from him, but he managed to make it to his and Arthur’s quarters, resting Daegal on the bed before he collapsed on the chair, leaning his elbows against the table and clutching at his head as pain shot through it.

Now that he was in the room, and sure that Daegal would be out like a light for a couple of hours at least, he allowed the glamor to fall, alleviating the pain somewhat, but not by much. His core felt hollow, and throbbed, and with each throb the hollow seemed to grow larger, to expand. If that voice in his head was his dragon, then coupled with Sophia’s warning to Arthur, that meant that whatever was happening to Merlin was connected to his Dragonlord - his draconic - magic. That would somewhat explain why he’d found himself lost to those memories during the coronation.

Obviously not only did his inner dragon idolize Arthur yet was much less happy with Merlin himself, but it was trying to tell him something, get him to remember something that it must consider important, but _what_? And why was it suddenly able to reach out and communicate with him when it had never been able to do so before? Why tonight? What had happened to suddenly change things? And did it have something to do with the fact that Merlin was unable to shift out of his true form?

Desperate to breathe, and yet finding it harder and harder to do, Merlin tore his hands from his face and tilted his head back, mouth opening wide as he took in desperate gulps of oxygen that did not seem enough to quench the suffocating tightness in his throat and chest. He closed his eyes tightly and gripped at his hair, his claws digging into his scalp, but he ignored it as the pain, the hollow, continued to grow.

Unable to find any relief, Merlin shot to his feet and paced the room, before catching a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror and stumbling to a feet. There, staring at him, was his true self - and it looked more terrifying than ever as black tears he had not even realized he was shedding trailed their way out of his inky black eyes down his pallid cheeks, the cheekbones of which were more defined in his gaunt face. Merlin brought a clawed hand to his cheek, the claws slicing at the skin yet he didn’t feel the pain, didn’t pay attention to the blood coating his claws. No. His gaze was on the viscous trails of utter black which slipped their way down his long fingers.

What _was_ this?

He looked up towards the mirror once more, but instead of his true form, Merlin found himself staring at his younger self, the him before his parents’ deaths. He glanced down at his hands, finding them smaller, clean. He looked around him in confusion before he realized he wasn’t in his house, or in a house at all. All around him seemed to be nothing but a seemingly endless apple orchard.

Instead of feeling scared, or lost, Merlin let out a happy little breath as he circled, hands out in the air, before beginning to giggle as he ran around. He paid no attention where he was going, his feet bare, his hands out to his sides as he pretended to fly while running up and down, ducking between trees and snatching at apples, biting into them and eating them happily, juice dripping down the side of his lips.

Hearing giggling he followed the sound, finally stumbling across his father, who was in the middle of a group of fae, but they were not like the ones made of fiery light, these ones having leaves and flowers in their hair, tree moss for clothes - or at least the clothes strewn all over the ground seemed to have been made of moss. Balinor Dragonlord was surrounded by the green-skinned creatures, trading sloppy, open-mouthed kisses with the giggling, gasping creatures all around him, those unable to kiss his lips kissing other parts of his body.

This was the 'frenzy' father talked about, the one he no longer hid from Merlin, in fact, whenever he came to this place to tup with the fae that inhabited it he now brought Merlin along and allowed him to roam free to his heart’s content instead of expecting him to stay alone at home, as before. Merlin still did not quite understand the frenzy that drove his father to come to this place, but Merlin himself felt more appreciated, less babied, by the fact that it was not being kept from him. Clearly his father realized Merlin wasn’t an infant anymore, and soon he would explain things more to Merlin.

Until then he was more than happy to spend the hours away from home roaming up and down until his father or his friends finally found him and brought him back.

Not quite interested in the frenzy, Merlin ran away with a giggle, hands out at his sides once more, enjoying the feeling of the wind against his skin. He didn’t know how long he ran but he didn’t tire, his joy did not decrease, it only seemed to grow as he ran far far far far away. And that made him go faster, further, until he finally emerged from what had seemed like an endless apple orchard, finding himself in a large field of glowing pink flowers. Merlin was a boy, and father assured him that flowers were a girl thing, but despite that he found himself grinning happily when he saw the field and the flowers.

Running out into the meadow, Merlin’s toe caught on something and he laughed as he fell and began to tumble in the cool, tall grass. It didn’t hurt, it felt like an endless thrill as he rolled and rolled until he finally came to a stop on his back, staring up at the sky.All around him the flowers throbbed with glowing warmth, and when Merlin reached out to touch one it was incredibly warm to his skin, it almost hurt, but the skin touching the burning glow was different, slightly green, as if there were scales just beneath the surface.

Wind whooshed violently above him, drawing Merlin’s attention from his fingers to the sky once more. His eyes widened and his lips fell open in a choked gasp of utter fascination as, above him in the sky, a large dragon flew by.

Stumbling to his feet, Merlin yelled out to the beast in excitement and began to race after it, staring up at the sky, not even looking where he was going anymore. He flung his arms up above his head, trying to catch the beast’s attention, but no matter how hard he yelled or how rapidly he waved his hands the creature was far too high to notice him. Merlin laughed, enjoying the challenge, deciding to follow the beast and see where its nest must be. Father would be so jealous that _he_ had seen a real dragon! 

Only realizing he’d run into a forest when the view of the dragon was partially covered by the treetops, and when the cold of shadows fell on his skin, Merlin looked down for the first time, not exactly sure where he was - he’d never been here before. It didn’t matter though. He returned his gaze up to the sky, trying to track the dragon’s flight despite the leaves half blinding him up above. It was due to his gaze being upwards that he didn’t know what happened, but one minute he was running, chasing the dragon through the dense, cold forest, and then there was pain and he collapsed on his hands and knees to the ground.

It was as he remained bent there, breathing heavily, confused, pained, trying to figure out what had happened to him - that he realized just how oddly quiet everything suddenly was. There was no birdsong. No singing and giggling, and despite the fact that everything was so cold there did not seem to be any breeze actually whistling through the trees in that odd chime-like way. 

Looking up curiously, Merlin slowly pushed to his feet, forgetting about the dragon (which was now long gone) and instead glanced around him curiously. Unlike what he was used to, this place wasn’t vibrant and saturated in colors, with warmth and beauty and giggles and songs. This forest was very much unlike the apple orchards that seemed endless at times. It was hints of blues and blacks and grays with some purples and greens here and there. Not only was the soil beneath his feet cold and wet to the touch, but the air around him was chilly as well, causing the breaths that escaped his lips to come out in visible mist.

A sound shattered the incredible silence, drawing Merlin’s attention as he turned slightly on his heel to face the direction it was coming from. He tilted his head, listening silently, and then it came again. It sounded — it sounded like — someone was crying.

“Hello?” Merlin called out worriedly, his voice echoing oddly all around him. “Are you hurt? Do you need help?”

“ _…help…”_ a very faint voice echoed back to him. “ _…help…”_

Eyes wide, Merlin started racing towards that voice as fast as his legs could take him deeper and deeper into the darkness and chill of the forest. “Keep yelling!” He called out worriedly. “I am trying to find you! Are you in pain? Are you hurt?”

“ _…hurt…_ ” the voice continued to echo. “ _…hurt_ …”

The deeper in the forest he got, the colder he became, the harder it seemed to keep his pace, but Merlin continued forwards in the general direction of that voice. He felt turned around, lost for the first time since his father had brought him to this place, slight panic welling in his chest as he spun around when he lost track of where the voice was coming from.

“Where are you?” He called out, cupping his hands around his mouth to help project his voice further. “Are you close?”

“ _…close…”_ the voice promised. “ _…close_ …”

Narrowing in on the direction, Merlin took off running again towards it. 

“ _…close…”_ the voice was closer. “ _…close_ …”

Merlin pushed passed a large mangled tree and nearly fell, only managing to catch himself on it seconds before he could fall face-first into the dark water. The boy breathed in rapidly, terrified, only to realize that there was a hand sticking out of that thick dark water, covered in that black, waving out desperately. Someone had fallen in. Someone was drowning!

Looking around him desperately, Merlin grabbed hold of one of the tree’s lowest hanging branches and stood at the edge of that pond/pit leaning out, trying to reach that hand. “Hold on a little longer! I am here!” He cried out when he couldn’t reach that hand, so he instead grabbed a lower branch and leaned out more awkwardly, this time his fingers just about reaching that flailing hand. And then, just as his fingertips were about to touch, that hand stopped flailing and instead grabbed onto his wrist seconds before Merlin was tugged so viciously the branch broke, and he fell into the thick black and was dragged under before he could even scream.

Merlin tried clawing free, unable to breath, but while the blackness was thick it was still liquid, and slipped between his fingers as he was dragged deeper and deeper into the pitch black depths.

**The demon roared**.

Merlin opened his eyes and gasped in desperately for breath, finding himself on the floor in front of the mirror. His eyes were wide in terror, his face and body bleeding from self-inflicted injuries from his own blood-soaked claws. The cambion was trembling, shivering, shaking, uncontrollably. He was cold. So cold. Merlin curled up in a fetal position on the floor, hugging himself, only strong enough to keep breathing heavily, deeply, desperately, eyes wide.

The door was flung open, and Sophia entered the room, eyes wide as she slammed the door closed and hurried towards him, collapsing on her knees next to him. “What is it, Merlin!?” For her credit she did not react at all to his true form, was apparently far more interested and worried about what was probably the reaction of his draconic magic inside of him. “What did I just—-?” She hissed in shock as she pulled away from him for a second to bring a hand to her nose and mouth, muffling her voice when she cried out: “What is that _stench_?” She shook her head. “I need to find Art—-.”

Clawed hand reaching out quickly, Merlin wrapped it around her wrist and kept her from moving, unable to speak but shaking his head, refusing to allow Arthur to see him like this - refusing to reveal to the blonde just how pathetic he truly was.

“You do not want me to bring your mate?” Sophia asked in confusion as she shifted back to him. “But Merlin, you _need_ —!” When his grip on her tightened and he shook his head harder, she breathed out raggedly. “I do not understand why you would not—but if you do not want me to—Merlin, I still need to warm you up. Let me go.” When he tightened his grip on her she sighed. “I will not call Arthur, I _swear_.”

Only then did Merlin trust to let her go, and when he did he curled harder in the fetal position, teeth chattering. He could feel his magic wanting to let go of its hold on the sleeping court, but he refused to let the spell be lifted, instead, he pushed more and more magic into that Intention, and when he did that throb at his core became _agony_. He sobbed and gripped at his core, letting out inhuman screams as black gushed passed his lips onto the ground all around him.

“ _Merlin_!” Sophia’s voice broke in fear as she returned with the wolf fur, which she wrapped around him, covering his body with it and wrapping her own arms around him to give him some of her own body warmth. “We _need_ to call Arthur, Merlin! Let me call—-!”

_Yes. Let her call Arthur. Even she knows that you are useless without him. Honestly, how did you even survive before you used his emotional vulnerability, his horribly impossible situation, against him to get what you wanted? And you call **Valiant** a monster._

Merlin shook his head, both against that voice and against Sophia’s words, but when he opened his mouth to tell her so with words screams, hoarse and inhuman, escaped his lips as his skin split open, not deep enough to reach the bone, but enough to allow blood and blackness to begin to seep out from his body.

“ _MERLIN!”_ Sophia was screaming as she tried to press the wolf fur harder into him as if trying to staunch the bleeding in the fur. “ _LET ME CALL ARTHUR_!”

_Yes_. _Let her call Arthur._ _Go running to him. Go crying. Hold onto his skirt and sob for help like a scared little child to his mother. Call the one who has to fix your messes. The one who always ends up getting hurt by you - first when he was taken by Nimueh and you hated him immediately without even waiting to hear his side of the story - and then when you listened to a damned sword and sent him away, again without even listening to his side of the story. You say you love him, but you are the one who hurts him the most. He told you that already, did he not? You hurt him, Merlin. You are weak, you are selfish, you are always trying to protect yourself but you never try to protect_ ** _him_** _. Never. You only think about yourself. Arthur is going to truly suffer  during his life, and it will all be because of you._

“ **NO**.” Even Merlin was surprised at the sound of his own voice.

"Merlin-- _please_!" Sophia begged.

It was at that moment that he realized that whatever bound Sophia to Excalibur, it made her unable to go against his commands. 

* * *

Arthur rubbed his rune covered arm, which was itching him somewhat, but he ignored it as he stared at the cell being filled with changelings. He needed to get every last one safely inside so they could figure out what the next step was now. It didn’t help that he kept getting distracted by the itching in his arm, and at the memory of just how terrible Merlin had looked. Arthur could not understand how a week had been enough to make Merlin deplete the way that he had. It had been hard on Arthur to be away from Merlin for that long, but he’d understood why it was important to do so - they needed Merlin to look like someone who was not in contact with his mate to sell the story that Arthur had left.

According to Aulfric they had wanted to separate Arthur and Merlin, and that, coupled with the scents of fear and confusion around the castle, would’ve worried whoever was still working with Camelot. The uncertainty, the unknown occurrences, would’ve forced them to try and use this opportunity to do something while they still could, and while Arthur had expected them to do something the week he was 'gone'—.

A hiss escaped his lips as he gripped his runed arm as a shock of pain raced up it, but he ignored it, forcing himself to increase his own speed. This was probably Merlin getting hungrier and hungrier. Arthur needed to hurry up, needed to make sure everything was ready, that the kingdom was safe (even if only for tonight) and then he could make up for lost time with his lover. He just needed to do this, needed to see his plan through. This was important, he needed to make sure that there were no loose ends - needed to—.

“ _Prince_ _Arthur_!” Fionn yelled as he raced into the underground room they had used to make the holding cell for the changelings. “We have a problem!”

Arthur and the others turned towards Fionn as the squire nearly tripped in his hurry, yet managed to keep himself on his feet as he skidded to a stop. 

"What is it?” Arthur wanted to know, worry clenching in his stomach. 

“ _Missing_!” Fionn gasped for air desperately. “There are two people missing! Two that were not in the throne room and never took the potion!”

Arthur’s eyes widened in absolute horror.

“Who is it?” Owain wanted to know immediately. “If they avoided the throne room they must have suspected that something—!”

‘ _…until the Grand Court Sorcerer was drained into weakness and ripe for the picking_ …’ Aulfric’s words echoed tauntingly in Arthur’s head as he paled, his wide-eyed, horrified gaze lowering to his painful arm - the arm connected with his cambion. “ _Merlin_.” And with that he took off running as fast as his feet would take him, calling himself all kinds of fool.

* * *

 

It was a testament to how out of it Merlin was due to the pain that he didn’t even realize the bang he heard was the door flying open and hitting the wall loudly. He hadn’t even realized that he’d taken the magic keeping the doors closed off of it, trying to focus all of his power on keeping the Court asleep for what had to happen next. He also hadn’t realized there were others in the room with them until he saw shoes in his line of vision, and while a weak part of him hoped it was Arthur, he knew it wasn’t the case.

Merlin forced his gaze upwards to find Sir Ethan standing above him, looking down at him with an odd expression. Behind him Will was heading towards Daegal’s unconscious figure on the bed.

“He will not let me call Arthur,” Sophia was saying in a very panicked tone. “I cannot - _he will not let me_!”

Sir Ethan sighed and knelt down on his knees. “Little Prince, I need you to be stronger than you even know how to be right now.” He reached out and placed his cool hand on Merlin’s forehead. “I need you to spirit the changelings out of their prison, Little Prince.”

Merlin cried out and curled into himself tighter, looking away from Sir Ethan

“I know it hurts, but you need to do this, it is the only way,” Sir Ethan told him urgently.

“You want him to use _magic_?” Sophia snapped in confused anger. “Do you not _see_ the condition he is in?”

“ _He is a prince!_ He is the _heir_!” Sir Ethan snarled at her. “Have a bit more faith in him!” He then took in a deep breath. “Your mate is no doubt on his way to find you, Little Prince. I do not want to hurt him, but I _will_ if he gets here before you do as I ask.”

“He _needs_ Arthur!” Sophia screamed at Sir Ethan. “You _cannot_ —!”

_Who do you save? Yourself? Or Arthur?_

The demon snarled furiously at the insinuation that they would choose themselves over the mate.

Merlin trembled and coughed up more black, his skin rippling visibly as he rolled onto his back to stare feverishly up at Sir Ethan. “Wh-where?”

“You cannot be _serious_ , Merlin!” Sophia growled down at him in disbelief. “It will _kill_ you!”

Sir Ethan placed his hand over Merlin’s eyes, leaning his gaze black. “Take us all home, Merlin. Take us back to your home. The changelings, Daegel, you, her and us. Take us to the Dragonlord estate.”

“You _are_ trying to kill him!” Sophia accused viciously.

Will arrived at their side, a still unconscious Daegal flung over his shoulder. “We do not have much time, I can hear footsteps. The mate is coming.”

Panic filled Merlin’s body as he closed his eyes and slammed his hands palms down on the stone floor below him. He connected with every stone in the castle all the way to the underground tunnels, hitting the magic surrounding the changelings, trapping them. It fought him, it was strong magic, it was why he had chosen them for Arthur’s purpose, and yet they now fought him. 

“MERLIN!” Arthur’s voice sent shivers of fear through him, as did the sound of Sir Ethan drawing his blade.

That panic, that fear, that terror, fueled his magic, which burnt away the magic trapping the changelings and immediately curled around them before shooting out visibly from Merlin in dark waves to encircle those in the room. He nearly blacked out at that alone, but Sir Ethan moving towards the door, and Arthur’s rapidly approaching - racing - footsteps kept him awake in terror. The magic around those sleeping in the court coiled around them like snakes, seeping into their heads but none more than Valiant. Merlin had to—he had to—he had to protect Arthur—he had to—.

“MERLIN!” Arthur was close - too close.

“Do it now, or watch him die!” Sir Ethan hissed as he reached for the door handle.

Magic exploded from Merlin like violent, black waves.

And then everything went black.

* * *

 

Magic rippled violently from the door the second Arthur swung it open, sending him flying back into the wall. He groaned, the world tilting on its axis from the blow, and while black spots appeared in front of him he somehow managed to remain conscious and stumble towards the door, through it, before the others who had been before him in the hallway and had also been knocked back by the blast of magic.

The blonde stumbled into the room, using his grip on the doorframe to propel himself forwards, but what he saw within caused his legs to collapse under him as he stared in horror at the devastation throughout his and Merlin’s room. But it wasn’t the black burn against the stone, or the singe of everything made of fabric that left him so horrified he could not find the strength to stand. 

No.

Arthur stared in horror at the mixture of black and scarlet that coated the floor in front of the mirror. There was a faint, bloody outline of a long, lean body - Merlin - and someone on their knees - it looked thin like a female - _Sophia_. The blood and black had spread out to reveal two further sets of footprints far too close.

Sir Ethan and Will - or the creatures that had taken their form - had gotten to Merlin before Arthur could - much sooner if the blood was anything to go by. They’d hurt him—they— _why had he ignored the pain_?

Arthur started to shake in terror, in horror, in anger and in self-loathing.

“What—?” Owain stumbled to a stop behind him. “ _No_.”

Grabbing fistfuls of his hair, Arthur screamed. 

* * *

 “How could you be so reckless?” 

“He could have died!”

“He is the Prince! Do not underestimate him!”

“Fool!”

“He may **still** die!”

“He is losing too much—we need to hurry!”

“Hurry!”

“ **_HURRY_ ** ! ”

Those terrified voices were the last thing Merlin heard before slipping back into the awaiting, hungry, all-consuming darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

The Mercian Court was abustle with last minute preparations to march to war. Usually womenwarriors went into battle with them, but given the approaching dark moon they were to remain stationed at the castle in case Camelot should try and conquer it while most of the warriors were out to battle. The wagons and the horses were being readied, the children saying goodbye to their fathers, and the Swain were being herded into their own separate wagons. It had been the plan to pair them up before they started off for war but with everything that had happened all of their plans had been dashed to pieces. Also, from the way the unpaired men were watching the Swain, who were quite obviously also watching them with equal interest, Owain had very little hope that the Swain would make it to the battleground before finding themselves (eagerly) breached.

A part of him wanted to go with them to battle, to be there in the midst of the fighting as well as to be there for the Swain, but Owain would not be going - and thankfully no one was pushing for him to do so, the whole Court no doubt guessing (and respecting) his reason for staying behind. It was not due to his fear of battle, but due to the dark moon itself. He was not ready to pass that week without Bayard. As he himself had not been a vessel of the dark rituals Owain would be fine, would not truly feel the draw, but he was not even close to being ready to have one of the soldiers expect him to assist them with their arousal. It was the reason he was staying behind with the women and children, and he had also promised Cassius and Lancelot that he would take care of Lucan while they were gone - so at least it made him feel like he had a purpose and that he was not pulling his own weight.

A flash of blonde to his right drew his attention, and he sighed heavily as he saw Arthur, who was staring down at his rune covered arm. Ever since last night the blonde had closed up, guilt and anger and worry visible in every feature. He was not only blaming himself for what had happened, but the fact that apparently Merlin had used his last ounce of strength to further protect Arthur. Had the Court awoken, realizing that they had been put under a sleeping spell and had lost the changelings who could give them information they needed - all under Arthur’s directives - Valiant would have had everything he needed to turn on those of Camelot in general and Arthur in particular. It was what they had all been expecting, but when those of the Court had awoken… Owain and the others who had quickly worked out that they seemed to remember things differently.

Those who had been under the sleeping spell remembered the coronation going off without a hitch, remembered Valiant declaring Arthur (as Excalibur’s wielder) to be his Champion in the war - the most prestigious honor a king could give a warrior - and that Valiant had publicly declared his intentions of peace and brotherhood with Arthur, that Valiant had declared that despite their murky and turbulent past that he and Arthur would strive to not only respect each other, but be true allies, as would their kingdoms. Those who had been sleeping remembered Valiant announcing the brotherhood that would last between Mercia and Camelot, a trade alliance, and many other promises that the king would never be able to break should they win the war. The people of the Court praised Valiant for his foresight, for his cunning, for his leadership. The people’s obvious respect cornered Valiant completely, magnificently, as Merlin had no doubt planned and managed to force through - execute flawlessly - despite the fact that he’d obviously been not only gravely injured, but bleeding out on the ground from Sir Ethan and Will’s attack - and had been forced to also take the changelings and them away from the danger of the Court.

Given how terribly gaunt, how fatigued and drained Merlin had looked before all of that had even happened Arthur’s inner circle very much feared - no, they believed, they **knew** \- that Merlin had not made it. The fact that there had been no message for ransom, or one requesting a trade of Merlin for Arthur, only proved it. 

There was also the fact that Mordred had been trying to reach out to Merlin ever since the explosion of dark power that had raced through the castle. While at first Mordred had felt pain and coldness through his and Merlin’s shared connection he had been unable to get any other sensation, had been able to hear nothing but agonized, wordless, screams, and then the connection between them had been severed, had been cut, had been destroyed. No matter how hard and often Mordred tried to find that connection, to search it out, to reopen it, the druid was finding it impossible to do so. 

And there was the fact that the magic that was inside of Mordred and Morgana, the magic that Merlin had kept within them to protect them, was now completely gone. There was still magic within Arthur, but his situation was somewhat different given the fact that he had been magically linked to Merlin - his Consort. 

All in all, everything was pointing to a very horrible, very painful, very heart-breaking truth, and while the inner circle would not dare say it to Arthur, they all knew that given everything there was only one likely outcome.

On the other hand none of the Court were worried, as they remembered King Valiant sending Merlin and a few of the Courtiers off on an important ‘side mission’ and considered their disappearance to be expected. They believed Merlin and the others would return once they reached the designated battleground. Some were surprised Arthur had not gone along with Merlin given the fact that he was his Consort, but as the king’s Champion they supposed it was not _too_ odd.

Even in _this_ aspect Merlin had covered for Arthur, protected him. While there had never been any doubt regarding Merlin’s love for Arthur, especially not to Owain or anyone else who saw them interacting with each other, this action proved it beyond any hint of a doubt. It was also the reason why the inner circle were giving Arthur a wide berth, were giving him space, realizing the pain and mourning he must be going through at having lost such a lover, such devoted love, and that - knowing young prince Arthur - he would not want to vocalize his grief, would prefer solitude.

Owain, on the other hand, could not give the blonde this desired solitude. He would not be joining them on the journey to war, so he needed to approach Arthur, needed to get through to him, while he was still in the Mercian Court.

Sighing at the look in Arthur’s eyes, Owain moved towards the silent prince and stood next to him. “The people cannot see their Champion looking so dark and gloomy leading up to the battle, Arthur, it will no doubt lower their own spirits. You need to be strong. You need to fulfill the role Merlin no doubt wasted _a lot_ of his precious little energy on to provide you with, to protect you with.” He could see the flinch of pain that raced through Arthur at those words but pressed on. “There is nothing else you can do but play the part he has given you - and accept that, like Bayard, he made sure to provide—-.”

“Merlin is _not_ dead!” Arthur hissed, the pain morphing completely into fury as he turned to Owain yet kept his voice lowered so no one else could hear their conversation. “This is _nothing_ like Bayard preparing his will to make sure you were provided for after his passing! Merlin—Merlin is not—I would— _he is not dead_!”

Owain wanted to believe that, he really did, but Merlin had been worrisomely drained even _before_ this had happened, and that - mixed with the amount of magic he had displayed - and the amount of blood (and whatever that black thing had been) that had covered the floor and still stained the stone… he could not see how Merlin could have survived that. Just the fact that Merlin had used up so much energy to create the false memories in the Court, in Valiant, went to prove how desperate he had been, how little time the cambion himself had realized he had left.

“He is _not_ —.” Arthur’s voice broke as he looked away, bitting down roughly on his trembling bottom lip before taking in a deep breath. “I thought he was dead once, Owain, and because of that I nearly _truly_ lost him - because of that it took me months of desperately clawing with tooth and nail to get him back, to—-. I will _not_ make the same mistake and underestimate him again. He is alive. He _has_ to be alive.”

“Even if he _was_ somehow alive despite doing all he did while _also_ teleporting such a large group to only the gods know where… once he reached wherever they made him take them and the changelings - do you really think they would leave him alive? The only reason they would keep him alive would be for ransom, to use him to trade for you, but the fact that they have not done so, have made no demands or even made it known that they have him… you _know_ what that means,” Owain whispered softly, hating to do this to the blonde when he was already so close to breaking, to be the one to say this, to shatter his hope, but Arthur needed to be prepared for what was most probably the truth, otherwise he would most definitely break. “Merlin is our Grand Court Sorcerer, Arthur, he is one of our greatest weapons in this war. The other side have been after him for a while now, you heard Aulfric. Part of their plan was to weaken him until he—.”

“I know that! I remember that!” Arthur snapped at him before he bit down on his bottom lip once more. He closed his eyes tightly. “You think I _forgot_ that the plan was to weaken him so he could not stop them from killing me?” His hands were trembling. “Do you think I do not _realize_ that he implanted these false memories in the Mercian Court - that he _sacrificed_ himself - for _me_?” Tears welled in his eyes. “ ** _Again_**?”

Owain’s eyes narrowed in confusion at that last word. Again? What in the world was the blonde talking about? “What—?”

“He’s always—he’s _always_ —.” Arthur turned and walked out of the courtyard and into a darkened, more secluded corner out of the sight of the bustling courtyard. Clearly the young prince was close to losing his last shred of self-control and refused to be out in the open when that happened, when he broke down, especially when those who saw it would not understand the reasons behind it.

Owain followed after him, concerned and confused. “Arthur—?”

The blonde turned on him angrily. “I let down _everyone,_ Owain! People keep dying because of me! Merlin should have just let me die!”

“No one—-.”

“My parents died, people in my kingdom died to protect me, Nimueh gave her last breath to send me and a few others away before—.” Arthur was shaking, both in fury and in agony as he began to pace the dark corner. “And _Merlin_ —!” His voice cracked painfully. “He keeps—because of _me_! Because he loves me! He keeps getting hurt because of his love for me!” Arthur leaned heavily against a wall, gaze filling with unshed tears as he stared miserably at his feet. “He was nearly murdered by Nimueh _because of his love for me_. He gave himself to Valiant _because of his love for me_. He went to sacrifice his own life in exchange for Excalibur - in what he thought was my place - _because of his love for me_. He thought I was disgusted and terrified of him, that I had rejected the very core of him, and yet he still gave me Excalibur and sent me back to Mercia to continue in this war while he suffered all alone _because of his love for me._ He went along with my  **_stupid_ ** plan despite how it would weaken him _because of his love for me_! He did not send word of how badly he was reacting to our separation _because of his love for me_. He did not make me feed him immediately afterwards once we were reunited, allowed me to selfishly continue on with things, duties, _someone else_ could have easily done _because of his love for me_.” Arthur’s voice choked, thick with emotion, with pain. “He did not defend himself with all his might against Sir Ethan and Will because he was using most of his power on those sleeping - was sacrificing himself **again** \- to protect me from his own king, his own kingdom, _because of his love for me._ ” Tears started to fall down his face as he shivered and hugged himself tightly. “He could be **dead** \- he **might be dead** - _because of his love for me._ ”

Owain saw his own suffering, his own realization, on that face, and while neither he nor Arthur were this sort of ‘close’ he reached out and hugged the young prince tightly. When Bayard had died Owain himself had gone through dark reflections such as these, had suffered from very similar thoughts, from the self-blame. If there was anyone who understood the torture Arthur was putting himself through right now it was Owain, and that was why he could not let him continue to do so right now. “Arthur, you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that Merlin is dead.” When Arthur tried to pull away Owain tightened his grip and hurriedly continued on. “You _have_ to, Arthur, because if you break down _who_ will avenge him?”

Arthur stilled in Owain’s arms. 

“You have to be strong, Arthur, you _have_ to,” Owain whispered.

Arthur just remained still, almost lifeless, in his arms.

 

* * *

 

Daegal paced back and forth, unable to believe that Ethan had made that choice, that he’d failed to trust Merlin the way he had - that he had put Merlin in danger like that. A part of him understood that Ethan was, in his very own way, trying to protect not only the changelings but Merlin himself, and yet his reckless actions left the Prince teetering between life and death, the healers all doing their best to try and heal him yet they were not making much progress at all, only seeming to manage to keep him from outright dying, yet he kept _nearly_ dying, and they were all afraid that the next time his heart stopped beating it would be the last.

“You are getting me dizzy,” Bors muttered from where he was leaning with his arms folded over his chest, his gaze through the arched doorway into the pitch darkness within. “Just sit down and try to relax a little, no matter how hard that may seem to you at the moment. The fact that he has yet to actually die is promising.”

“Promising? He is three-fourths _Incubus_ , the Incubi are _immortal_ , the fact that he is so close to dying right now—-!” Daegal threw his hands in the air before groaning and covering his hands with his face. “We went there to Mercia to _protect_ him while he was in the Mercian Court, to keep a watchful eye over him, to help _feed_ him and keep him strong—properly fed! He was the _only_ reason we were in Mercia! His safety and welfare was the only reason why we left our homes—and now—because of _us_ —!”

With a sigh, Bors turned his gaze on Daegal. “Explain to me _how_ working along with Camelot was _good_ for him?”

Daegal flinched and glared at him, turning to face Bors, shoulders squared, body tense. “We were _not_ working with Camelot! Joffrey was doing so behind all of our backs! He—he lost his way, forgot exactly _what_ we were doing in Mercia and _why_. He got greedy. He wanted the Prince for himself and was foolish enough to believe that Camelot would actually give him the Prince should he help them win the war.” His hands shook at his sides from the force of the clenched fists he made. “We all made sacrifices to be there, to help the Prince. Sir Ethan tried to make him his Consort so he would not be subjected to the dark magics and would be constantly feeding from our energy. We are a more food natural source for him, we will make him stronger, the more of our kind he was with the better it would be for him. But Bayard would not allow Merlin to become a Consort, so more of us had to come and - and - we had to make sure he—-.”

Bors tilted his head as he eyed Daegal in silent appraisal. 

The young male took in a deep breath and got control over his emotion as he tried once more. “You are not the only one that he fooled. He told me he was ill, that he was weak, and so I shared—I shared some of the magic that the Prince had given me. I thought I was helping a brother in arms, I did not realize he was—that he would use Merlin’s magic to find the anchors in the castle and tamper with them—that he would use the magic I was sharing - making _myself_ weaker and — and that he’d use it to turn against us all! When Merlin found out Joffrey was the traitor _we_ were more shocked than _any one_!” He let out a deep breath. “That is why wewaited for the dark moon’s effects to leave those in the dungeons distracted, and then we killed him.”

“You say that so very convincingly, and yet there is the fact that the seal of the family of Osgar was added to the sigil used to kill Malcolm, an innocent.” Bors’ lips twitched with utter disgust and contempt. “Just because I am new to the Court does not mean that I did not do my homework. If I was to protect I needed to know everything, so I waited until I did to make my presence known to them.” He pushed away from the wall and stood tall, chin raised. “So do not treat me like a _fool_.”

The thing is that Daegal could not even blame the two-in-one for the way they were acting. He understood it completely, had been expecting it due to Joffrey’s actions and how it would no doubt make the rest of them appear to be. It was due to their realization that Joffrey’s actions would no doubt cast doubt and condemnation upon them that the changelings had probably been far crueler in their method of doing away with Joffrey for his betrayal than they would’ve normally. 

Taking in a very deep breath, Daegal tried to explain, and hoped that the two-in-one would believe him, because given their connection to the Dragonblade, and through it to the Prince, they would be the most important first step to clearing the faes’ names. “Joffrey did that of his own volition. We did not know he was involved in Malcolm’s death or that it was done in an attempt to frame Valiant.”

“And yet you get to cozy in with Valiant almost immediately after,” Bors snickered in growing disgust as he shook his head. “Try a little harder, Daegal. You do not seem to even be _trying_ to make your lies convincing anymore.”

Nausea and worry bubbled inside of him, he _needed_ to convince the two-in-one of the truth of his words! They needed to understand that the fae were not the enemy! Had never been the enemy! But if he did not convince the two-in-one he would never be able to convince Merlin, and that was terrifying. “I approached Valiant because of his obvious desire for the Prince, and the obvious unhinged way he was acting once they stopped meeting up in secret,” Daegal replied with absolute truthfulness. “I was worried that he would do something that would hurt the Prince—either physically or emotionally—by hurting Arthur. I wanted to gain access to his room, to his life, and through him I would be closer to the Prince as well. I would have an excuse to speak to him, would connect with him magically and be able to feel him out, make sure that he was well, would be able to discreetly feed him even as he funneled his magic in me.” Daegal let out a heavy breath. “Arthur is not like Mordred, with Mordred we could feed age Prince freely, often, we had access to the Prince, but Arthur stopped that, he controlled everything. We _had_ to run even deeper subterfuge than we already were. Even when they came back from the crusade and it appeared that Arthur would allow the Prince to feed from others he continued to ignore our requests to do so.”

Bors tilted his head as he eyed Daegal, clearly sizing him and his words up. “If you care so much about Merlin why did you do nothing to stop the abuse he went through during that year he lived with his godfather?”

“Tauren _knew_ of us and of our ways, he was best of friends with the King, who apparently told him much about our kind,” Daegal informed him immediately with a frown. “We _could not_ approach the land. It was heavily warded against us, we tried for months to find a chink in the protection but it was impenetrable. We could not get to the Prince and the Prince did not leave the house, there was no way that we could do anything. We did not even know what was happening until…” he cleared his throat and rubbed his arm. “In a moment of utter need a part of him instinctively called out to us and it was that brief moment that we were able to finally see…” He gulped, feeling nauseated at the memory of the horror that had filled their kind at the realization of what was occurring to the Prince. Daegal raised his gaze to meet Bors’. “ _Who_ do you think it was who risked venturing uninvited into her realm and told the Succubus Queen what was happening to her son?”

Bors’ eyes widened, clearly a part of the puzzle he had been confused about was suddenly, finally, put in place. “ _That_ was how she knew.”

“She did not act immediately as we had hoped, waited for her son to call to her, she tried to tempt him to do so, but when finally she realized the Prince would not turn to her for aid she turned to King Bayard, as the Prince trusted _him_. The Mercian went where we could not and saved the Prince when we ourselves could not.” It still stung to admit how useless they had been to Merlin, how they had been yet another to fail him when he had needed help the most. “As soon as we knew that the Prince was safely in the Mercian Court we took on human disguises and started to infiltrate the Court so that we could be close to him. Some of us became servants to get access to parts of the castle that others could not, some of us became lords, some became knights, some, like me, infiltrated the castle. Irvyn and I are half druids, we were able to infiltrate that way and it gave us a bit more of an ‘in’ as it got us close to Mordred, and Mordred called upon druids especially to help feed the Prince. Once he realized that we fed him better than the others he called on us on the Prince’s worse nights, and because of that we were able to serve him, protect him, feed him, in secret. Most of those who favored Mordred as the Prince’s lover were changelings, because with him as the Favored one we were able to feed not only the incubus inside of the Prince, but the dragon.” He fought the nausea that just the thought of everything that Joffrey’s actions had put in danger. “The Godfather’s spell is not just restraining the dragon, it is _hurting_ it. It has been thanks to our nurturing it, feeding it, that it was not damaged beyond repair up until this point.” He glanced out into the thick darkness passed that doorway, worry clutching deep within him. “But we may have failed him once more.”

There was more silence, and then a heavy sigh as Bors’ gaze returned to the suffocating darkness passed the archway. “Do not give up on him yet, Merlin has had far too much happen to him in his life but he has not only survived each and every one, but they have made him stronger.” He rested the side of his head on the doorframe. “Now that Arthur is able to wield Excalibur with relative ease - that he is more connected with it, and through him Excalibur is with Merlin - I am better able to see into his mind, into what has made him him. I thought he would die bringing us here, but he did not die, and if he did not in that state then I refuse to believe he will allow himself to succumb here. Now.”

Daegal hoped to the gods that that was the case. He moved to the opposite side of the doorway and peered into the blinding darkness on the other side. “If only he had not been subjected to so many dark rituals - the demonic side of him would not have been so overly fed, would not have grown so strong, so overpowering. I do not know if the dragon will be able to wrestle back control whenever we manage to free it. The King was part demon and part dragon, both sides of him were equal, they were balanced by each other, tempered by each other. It is not the same with the Prince.” He gulped. “I fear that when the dragon is loosed it will not be able to cohabit peacefully with the demon, I fear they were battle, will tear each other apart seeking dominion and alphadom.”

Bors brought a hand to his face and groaned. “I fear the same.” He let his hand fall from his face, revealing a tired, worried expression. “When Merlin came to me at the lake I could not understand how he had been so easily manipulated by Excalibur, and yet when I tried to connect with his draconic magic and realized it was so horribly trapped, caged, while the demon—the demon has grown, completely unchecked. Merlin was supposed to have had both awakening around the same time during puberty, and with both powers still weak and new they would meld together, become a cohesive unit. That is what happened to _me_. It is what happens to _any_ Dragonlord who has demonic in them.” He turned to Daegal. “Arthur wants to set the dragon free, and I know that it must be let loose from its confines, it _must not_ remain trapped and so horribly contained, but I fear what it will do to Merlin when they are both unleashed inside of him. Not only is the demon used to sole dominion, but the dragon is deeply angry, aggressive… and is terrifyingly _resentful_ of the demon and its liberty. And the fact that Merlin considers his demonic appearance his _true_ form only infuriates it further as it, quite rightly, feels that Merlin merely acknowledges and claims his demonic heritage and not his draconic.” He raised an eyebrow. “It also does not help that both the demonic and the draconic claim Arthur as theirs, and from I can tell, neither side is very open to the idea of sharing him.”

“I want to like Arthur because he makes the Prince happy, but he also makes the Prince weak. The Prince is on his deathbed because of Arthur,” Daegal growled, unable to keep his true emotions quiet any longer. “I was worried that Arthur had been taken, that would have been the only _acceptable_ reason for the Prince to be in the state that he was in at the coronation—but Arthur was not taken, he _left_ , he purposefully kept himself away from the Prince despite making himself his sole source of feeding. I cannot forgive him for that selfishness, no matter the reason. Mordred would be a better Consort, _Mordred_ —.”

“Merlin does not _love_ Mordred in that way,” Bors interrupted tiredly. “Arthur and Merlin have a bond that is… fascinating… to say the least. Had I ever shared with someone the relationship, the love, they share with each other… I might have fought the idea when my kinsmen came to me and asked that I willingly allow them to sacrifice my life to seal the Dragonblade before it could destroy us all.” Bors gulped thickly, clearly lost in the memory of his life before he had become what he was now. He then shook his head and breathed in deeply, his gaze shifting onto Daegal fixedly. “Is that why the fae would not bring Arthur here when we came? Because they do not approve of him as Merlin’s Consort?”

“Every Consort, from the first King till the last one, has understood the need, the hunger, the frenzy. Hunith understood, _Mordred_ in his own way understood even though he was not a Consort, but Arthur does not. He seems to believe it is merely the demon in the Prince which is hungry, which demands homage be paid, but that is not the case.” Daegal ran a shaky hand through his hair. “The orchards are withering.”

Bors’ eyes were wide in horror, clearly understanding what Daegal did not want to come out and say because it was just too horrible, too depressing, to put into words. “But that is _impossible_.”

“We believed so as well, the idea that such extensive, horrific damage could be brought upon in one lifetime - in _half_ of a normal human lifetime - was considered laughable, and yet all around us we are seeing the signs of blight and wither. The cold is growing, as are the shadows.” Daegal looked up into the two-in-one’s face and could see the understanding of what that mean written on their face. “We cannot stand by and allow the Prince to continue the way he has been living his life up until this point, he must come home where we can tend to him and nurse him back to health, where we can begin to try and heal the damage that has been inflicted on him and strengthen him enough to try and survive the shattering of the cage around his dragon.”

“We will not allow himself to be pampered and protected, not when Arthur is in danger, when he is battling in a war,” Bors told him slowly, carefully, the way one would speak to someone of a very dull mind. “Merlin will rebel. He will fight. You will do nothing but cause him more distress, and he will _hate_ you and your kind for it.”

Daegal’s gaze lowered. “The elders have already spoken about this. They do not approve of Arthur, but they do not want to cause any further undue pain to fall upon the Prince. If he wishes Arthur to live, to be prosperous, to win the war and have his kingdom, we will strive to make this so. We will give him the assurance that Arthur is provided for, that he is safe, that he is healthy, and that he is what he should have always been: the King of Camelot.”

Bors’ eyes narrowed. “There is a ‘but’ in your pretty speech, Daegal.”

“ _But_ ,” Daegal admitted with a flinch as he finally admitted, “while the fae will fight with Mercia… the _Prince_ cannot.”

“I know he is weak, but—.”

“No.” Daegal shook his head, needing to express just how adamantly they were all against this. “Even if the Prince were at his strongest - at his peak - he _could not_ be allowed to fight in this war.” He trembled at the very thought. “He _cannot_ go up against the King of Camelot and his sorcerer.” He closed his eyes tightly and lowered his head, knowing he would get in trouble for admitting this, but he needed the Two-In-One to understand. “If he does… the Prince will _not_ emerge victorious.”

There was silence, and then a soft yet urgent: “ ** _What don’t I know?_** ”

Gulping, Daegal opened his eyes, stared up into Bors’ face, and told him _everything_.

 

* * *

 

Lancelot glanced behind him as the Mercian Castle disappeared in the distance, finally too far to be seen. He was relieved that Owain had stayed behind and promised to take care of Lucan until they returned, and should they not, Lancelot knew Owain would care for his son as if he were his own. But Lancelot did _not_ intend to die in this war, and would not allow anything to happen to Cassius either. They would both return, and they would raise Lucan, Sefa’s child, and any other they were lucky to be given. They would be a family, they would be happy, Lancelot _refused_ to go through the pain Owain had, and the one Arthur was currently going through right now despite his brave attempts to remain expressionless.

Glancing towards the Medical Wagon, where Cassius and his new apprentice were talking, visible through the back flaps, Lancelot’s heart clenched painfully at the thought of losing him. One took things for granted, one also sometimes took people for granted - even those closest to you - and so their loss was like a slap on the face. Lancelot had never believed he would lose Merlin, he’d very much believed his friend would outlive him, and yet Merlin was no doubt dead, and Arthur’s emotionless face yet broken gaze warned Lancelot of what his future might be should anything happen to his husband.

Not for the first time was Lancelot relieved that while his husband was an important person in the Mercian Court, he was not _that_ important - and what he meant by that was that Cassius was not someone who was important enough to be targeted for assassinations like Bayard and Merlin had both been. Owain and Arthur were now alone and in mourning because their lovers had been _that_ important. Cassius was the Court Physician, and his job constantly saved lives, and Lancelot loved that about him - but it was not something that would put his life in jeopardy just because of it. Even going into battle Cassius would be at the camp tending to the sick and the wounded, would not be in the battlefield itself, and Lancelot thanked his lucky stars each and every time he remembered that.

Cassius, he knew, had more reason to worry because Lancelot _was_ going to be in the thick of the battle - but Lancelot _refused_ to die - even if only because Cassius had already warned him he would find another husband immediately should the Head Knight do something ‘as selfish’ as to allow himself to be killed. No _way_ in the hells would Lancelot allow some other man to be bred by his husband or raise his son! So, no matter what it took, Lancelot would _live_. He would _live_. Damn it.

Cassius glanced out through the flaps and caught his gaze, a smile taking over his face immediately when he did.

Lancelot smiled back, happiness fluttering in his stomach.

Oh, he was going to survive this war. There were _far_ too many wonderful things in their future to look forwards to.

 

* * *

 

This changed _everything_.

Honestly, of all the things he had expected to hear tumble from Daegal’s lips _this_ had not been even close to one of his guesses! Everything slowly started to make sense, all of his lingering questions finally having answers, and as he stared into the darkness, trying (for what felt like the hundredth time) to peer through it and see beyond it to where Merlin was, Bors found that he agreed completely with the fae. Merlin could _not_ be allowed to join the battle, not even if he had fed from the whole world and would never again find himself hungry. 

What a cunning, devious, terrifying trap their enemy had had laid out for them! One in which they would have walked in blindly - would have - !

Shaking his head, refusing to dwell on what might have been, Bors instead turned his attention back to the darkness. Even though the trap was for Merlin and none else, that did not mean that the others marching towards the battlefield were not in great danger as well, and unlike the fae, Bors was tied to _both_ Merlin and Arthur through Excalibur, and he knew without a doubt that those two could be given everything the world had to offer them, but they would suffer if they were apart. As Merlin had once told Bors, Arthur was _his soul_ , and a Dragon Lord could not do without a soul. Also, considering the difference between how Arthur acted towards Merlin and how he acted towards the others, Arthur might be Merlin’s soul, but Merlin might be his _heart_. Either way, neither would be complete without the other.

It would be impossible to explain this to the fae though, especially when they did have a point regarding Arthur. Once again Bors understood their view, but he supposed the side that understood them was the Dragonlord side of him - the _Sophia_ side of him - whereas the demon side of him - the _Bors_ side of him - believed it was only going to be folly and suffering if they tried to keep the two apart. Yes, it was true that Arthur had laid a plan and had had some success at the cost of Merlin’s strength. Yes, it was true that Arthur should have had a back up plan and had Merlin feeding on someone during his absence. Yes, it was true that Arthur was _not_ the sort of Consort the Dragonlords of the past were known to have. But despite it all, Arthur made Merlin happy, and to both Sophia and Bors, that was all that really mattered. Merlin had been lonely, sad and subjected to self-imposed isolation for most of his life, so to deny him of the one person who had changed that - changed him - seemed like far too great a crime in their book.

How could he do this?

How could he protect - save - them both?

Running his hand down his face with a groan, Bors took in a very deep breath. He was going to need to pull from both his draconic _and_ demonic sides if he was going to do the impossible and figure out a way to help _both_ of his _far_ too difficult charges.

 

* * *

 

_Emrys? EMRYS!_

No matter how loud Mordred yelled, no matter hard he tried to connect, there was nothing there to connect with. He did not want to believe that Emrys was dead, but were that not the case they should have been able to—the connection should have—-.

_Emrys_ , **_please_**.

Nothing.

He hung his head low and gripped his horse’s reigns so tightly it shook in his grasp.

_Emrys, even if it is to ask how Arthur is doing, you need to speak to me. Arthur is not doing well, Emrys. He is scared you are dead. He tries not to show it, especially since you ensorcelled the Court, but he is not doing well at all. You_ ** _need_** _to speak to me, Emrys. You need to say something - or send me something - anything - even if it is just pain. Give me_ ** _something_** _that I can give him to prove that you are still alive_.

Nothing.

And _that_ terrified him.

If it had to do with Arthur he knew that Emrys would move heaven and earth, so if he were still not responding - no matter how faintly…

“Mordred, he is alive,” Percy whispered, surprising the druid at how close the man’s horse was to his as he reached out and placed his hand on the druid’s shoulder. “He is no doubt fighting for his life, but he lives.”

Looking up at Percy, Mordred stared up at the large man. “How can you be so sure of that?” He needed some hope - any hope - right about now.

“Arthur,” Percy responded softly. “His runes. Sometimes they flicker, as if they are about to disappear, but then they return once more. Those runes tie him to Merlin, so if they are still on his arm, Merlin is still alive… even if only barely. But if there is some life still left in him he _will not_ allow himself to die this way, not with Arthur going off into battle without him.”

Honestly, the druid had never thought he’d feel happy to hear someone talking about Emrys’ love for his half brother, but this news made him breathe out in relief. Percy was right. If those runes were still there - then Merlin had to be alive, even if only barely, and if he was still alive, there was hope.

A small smile touched Mordred’s lips as he returned his gaze to the large man. “ _Thank you, Percival_.”

Blushing, Percy looked away but smiled very happily to himself. 

Seeing this, Mordred could not stop his smile from growing more tender no matter how hard he fought it. He then cleared his throat and urged his horse faster, leaving Percy behind as he instead went to ride next to his half brother. “Percy has a theory, and I think it is correct.” He glanced down at Arthur’s runed arm in time to see it fade slightly before returning to its normal hue. “We think Emrys is alive, and that your runes prove it.”

Arthur looked up at him in wide-eyed, open, completely vulnerable hope before glancing down at his runes, apparently catching them fading only to return for the very first time because he looked shocked. “They are fading.”

“But they come back,” Mordred pushed urgently. “That could mean that Emrys is fighting for his life right now, and while that is terrifying, it _still_ means that wherever he is - wherever they have him - he is _still_ alive.”

Arthur stared up at him, lacking all of the superiority he’d always worn on his face, now pale, scared, hopeful, his eyes brimming with tears he refused to shed. “ _He’s alive_ ,” he whispered in broken emotion, letting go of the reigns to rub the runes on his arm as if they were the most precious thing to him. “ ** _He’s alive_**.”

A little uncomfortable at seeing a side of Arthur that Mordred had secretly doubted actually existed, the druid cleared his throat and looked away to give him a moment of privacy.

“ _Thank you,_ Mordred.”

Eyes wide in shock, Mordred turned to look at Arthur in disbelief. He’d—he’d _thanked_ him? Genuinely?!?

Meeting his gaze, Arthur smiled tremulously, gratefully, at Mordred. “ _Thank you_.”

“Y-you are we-welcome,” Mordred stuttered in absolute shock. “I will continue to try and reach out to him, and if I hear from Emrys - or feel _anything_ \- you will be the first one I tell.”

“ ** _Thank you_** ,” Arthur whispered brokenly, visibly doing his best to keep a brave expression on his face despite how obviously hard it was. “ ** _Thank you, Mordred_**.”

Staring at his half brother in utter awe, Mordred began to slowly realize there might just be more to Arthur than he’d ever allowed himself to admit. He’d always known there had to be _something_ about him that made Emrys love so dearly, and yet, for the first time, the druid might just be getting a glimpse of it himself.

 

* * *

 

**… _ur…_**

Arthur looked up in confusion as he glanced around. He’d been deep in thought, had been watching his runes intently for hours since Mordred had revealed to him their theory behind it, and had definitely become lost in thought, worried sick every time the runes faded only to be relieved when they returned. That was why he hadn’t noticed the soft call until it had been repeated itself a couple of times. Was someone calling his name?

**_…thur…_ **

No. No one was looking his way.

**_…Arthur…_ **

Eyes widening as he recognized that voice, Arthur sat up straight in his saddle. _Bors? BORS! Is that you?_

**_Arthur!_** It was definitely Bors’ voice, and it was relieved. **_I did not know whether you were connected enough with Excalibur to make this happen, I am so very relieved you are further along than I gave you credit!_**

_Where is Merlin, Bors? Is he alive? TELL me he is alive!_

**_Yes, I am fine, thank you for asking_** _._ This was definitely Bors. **_Your concern for my well-being is touching._**

_BORS!_

A snicker. A sigh. **_He is alive, Arthur, but he is not doing well. They do not know if he will make it._**

Happiness at having confirmation that Merlin was alive clashed with fury and terror. _Tell me where the fae have you, Bors. Tell me where you are and we will come to massacre every last one of them!_

A pause. Conflict. **_I cannot tell you where we are, Arthur. And even if I did it would make no difference because you would not be able to come on your own like that without permission. I can not even risk coming to you in person in fear that they might not let me back in, and I cannot leave the Dragon Lord alone at such a time as this._** A groan of exhaled stress. **_I cannot explain everything, I do not know how much longer we will be able to hold this connection - especially since it if our first time. All you need to know is that the fae are not against Mercia in this battle, but they are not necessarily on Mercia’s side either. The fae’s only interest is in Merlin, they have been trying to protect him for years. They are the ones behind King Bayard finding and saving Merlin from his godfather. Arthur, they have been guarding and taking care of him since even before his parents’ deaths._**

Arthur’s eyes widened in confusion. _But Joffrey—._

**_He apparently went rogue out of jealousy. The fae are the ones who killed him, or the changeling who pretended to be Joffrey at least, but they call him Joffrey so I believe they might truly ‘become’ the person they replace._** Another sigh. Frustration. **_When they realized their identities were discovered they needed to go into hiding, to escape, and they forced Merlin to take himself and I with them by threatening your life._** A hesitation. Clear uncertainty on whether this next part should be said at all. **_They do not approve of you, Arthur. They have been feeding Merlin covertly throughout the years, keeping him healthy, strong, and they blame you for the weak state that he is in now. They believe it best for the two of you - but especially for him - if you become King of Camelot and stay away from Merlin, they are more than willing to help you in your fight against your uncle under these conditions._**

_Tell them to go to any of the hells they prefer_ , Arthur snarled in disbelief that he was hearing this. Merlin was suffering, was fighting for his life, because of something _they_ had done and they wanted to use this time to manipulate Merlin’s life? Wanted to force them apart? _Tell them he is mine and I am his. Tell them to come for me. Tell them to take me to him. If he is battling for his life I should be there! It is my right!_

**_I have TRIED, Arthur, truly, I have plead your case. I even told them how it seemed destiny that the Lord of the Dragons mated with the Son of the Dragon. They did not find it as adorable as I did._** A neck cracked. Annoyance. **_The Dragonlord and the fae might be different species yet they are deeply connected, Arthur, and the Dragonlord part of me understands why they are doing this. They are also worried because of the dragon within Merlin._**

Arthur nodded, remembering Sophia telling him about Merlin’s draconic magic being in an uproar. _Of course they should be worried after they messed with him during his weak moments! You said you were worried something was affecting the dragon, and after realizing this it was obvious that—-_.

**_No. It was not them._** Bors shook his head rapidly. **_Arthur, I have only recently been made aware of the fact that the Dragon Lord has carried a dormant, quite malicious spell within him that only recently was activated, and it was THAT spell working which was affecting him the way it did. It was the reason he was so much more affected by your absence than usual, why he was so depleted, and why his dragon was reacting so desperately inside of him. It was_** **_this_ ** **_spell that forced the fae to take him with us because had they not caught in on time—Arthur, if you found blood in your quarters it was from the effects of that curse. The fae did not harm us. If Merlin is alive right now, even if he is merely fighting for it, it is because of them._ **

Arthur tightened the grip on his reigns. His Merlin had been cursed. _That_ was why he’d been unable to shift back from his true form. _That_ was why he’d been so depleted. _That_ was why he had seemed so off. The realization made fury boil inside of Arthur, but much of it was aimed at himself. How had he _not_ realized what was happening? Mordred had been able to sense Merlin’s danger while across kingdoms but Arthur had spent nights at his lover’s side and had realized _nothing_. Not only that, but he’d come up with a plan which had unknowingly _assisted_ the curse by keeping Merlin from feeding and thus weakened his defenses! He should have come up with a different plan! He should have—! 

The fae were right! This was all _his_ fault!

He’d had numerous opportunities to help Merlin feed and acquire his strength but he had, quitepompously, decided _for Merlin_ that he did not need it as yet. It was not that Arthur had planned on not allowing Merlin to feed on others, he most definitely had, he just had not wanted it to be anyone from the Court. He had planned on surprising Merlin with a trip into one of the nearby villages so Merlin could have his fill there, away from people who, due to constant contact with Merlin, might start to covet him for their own. Valiant had been a stark reminder to Arthur that there were many others who had slept with Merlin in the Court, and considering Merlin was _addictive_ Arthur had come up with this solution around that potential problem. He had even spoken to Roarke about which villages had the prettier villagers. 

Arthur had even begun thinking of schedules, had looked at the battle plans and noted different villages along the way to the battlefield. They _would_ have to make several camps before arriving at the designated battlefield, and he had planned to make sure Merlin was overly fed by the time they arrived. It had not just been him acting out on his duty either, a part of Arthur he was still trying to come to terms with had even been eager to see the look on his mate’s face and, if he was being honest, he’d grown hard at the thought of the scent Merlin emitted when there were others playing along. That scent was, it was, _amazing,_ and every single time Arthur had smelt it he had gone slightly insane with pleasure and lust. 

All in all, the blonde had praised himself for not only being smart about his mate’s addictive qualities, but about his feeding regime leading up to the battle. He’d been so excited to implement his own plans that he had apparently overlooked some key details.

If only he had given the offers true thought, if he had taken them for what they were instead of worrying about yet another Courtier becoming obsessed with Merlin, they might not been in the situation they were in right now, Merlin might not be fighting for his life!

_Tell me where you are, Bors._ Arthur felt cold determination trail up his spine. _I will go there - wherever you are - and I will convince them to allow me entrance._

**_I cannot do that. Arthur, the Dragon Lord forbade me from bringing you to him - that was his last command to me. He could not even speak because of agony as his skin split open all over his body but he made his wish - his order - known. He did not want you seeing him like that, did not want you trying to feed him in that condition - he would have most probably killed you had he fed from you in that state. And even if this is not exactly the same situation his last command to me was not to bring you to him - and I cannot disobey that command, Arthur._** There was a pause. **_Understand what I say. I CANNOT. And even if I could tell you where we are and ‘bring’ you in that way, you will not reach here on time. He will be dead and the war with Camelot lost long before you arrive._**

Breathing accelerating in growing horror, Arthur tried to tell himself to calm down, to think clearly, but the certainty in Bors’ voice was terrifying. _Bors—-_.

**_I cannot hold this much longer, I could probably do so if I were Sophia but I worry that if I change to that form my Dragonlord side will be too understanding of the fae arguments, that that side of me might agree, so I have to stay Bors no matter what._** A tired sigh. **_It is important, Arthur, that you know what is happening, but it is also greatly important that you know something I have just discovered. You need to know that—-_**.

And then the connection was severed between them.

_Bors?_ _BORS!_

There was no answer.

Glancing down at his rune-covered arm, Arthur’s blue eyes widened in horror when he saw the runes fade so drastically they nearly completely disappeared, only to slowly, very slowly, return.

_Nonononononononononono!_

Panic welled inside of him. Merlin was dying. _Merlin_ was _dying_! And yet the fae would not allow Arthur to be with him! And Bors apparently could not go against Merlin’s stupid ‘must protect Arthur’ orders! Even though Merlin was dying, wasn’t conscious, wouldn’t even _know_ if Bors broke troth apparently Merlin’s Intention was so strong that it—-.

Arthur’s eyes widened in utter shock.

Intention.

His hand lowered to press to his stomach. Merlin’s magic was still inside of him, and it had _responded_ to him before. Maybe— _maybe_ —it was a long shot, and it might tire Merlin more, but if Arthur could just _get_ to his cambion…

Taking in a very deep breath, Arthur concentrated on his core, his solar plexus. 

_Take me to Merlin._

It was probably a very tall order, probably impossible, and yet he refused to allow himself that doubt. He had managed to ‘communicate’ with the dragon within Merlin before - no matter how briefly - despite how impossible that was supposed to be. Merlin had also mentioned time and time again how he had never started depositing his magic inside of Arthur purposefully, that discovering it was dwelling inside of Arthur (and that it was what had kept Arthur safe from the Embalming Curse) had come as a surprise to none more than himself. Every time Merlin came inside of Arthur he deposited a little more of himself - his essence - inside of Arthur’s body, which soaked it in and made it a part of the blonde.

They were connected.

They were one.

Not only did bad things happened when they were apart, but Arthur was _sick and tired_ of constantly being separated from the cambion. He needed Merlin more than he needed to breathe. He needed Merlin more than he needed to sleep. He needed Merlin more than he needed to eat. He _needed_ Merlin and Merlin _needed_ him. And Arthur was _sick_ and _tired_ of people and/or situations trying to separate them, keep them apart. Now more than ever he could not - would not - allow it any longer.

_Take me to Merlin!_

He closed his eyes tightly and gripped the reigns when he nearly fell off the horse, but he held on tightly and pressed his hand tighter into his solar plexus.

_TAKE ME TO MERLIN!_

The blonde set his intention - being with Merlin, never being separated - having his cambion, his demon, his dragon, _his mate_.

**_TAKE ME TO MERLIN!_ **

He felt something shifted inside of him, and it hurt, but he latched onto that pain and bit down hard on his bottom teeth.

_My beloved demon, my cherished dragon,_ he pleaded them both desperately, about to lose it, about to go insane with grief and need. _Your magics are inside of me, your magics bind me to you, your magics claim me as yours and state my right to be by your side_. That pain grew and he pushed on through it. _I know you must be scared, tired, I know you are fighting, are clinging onto life, but please, let me fight with you._ The pain was unbearable as something clashed violently inside of him, causing him to double over in reaction to the gut-wrenching agony. _Take me to Merlin_ , he pleaded.

His body was warming, and even though he was in breathless pain, sweat pouring down his face, Arthur breathed out, centered himself, and pressed his hand harder against his solar plexus.

_As Merlin’s Consort and mate, as his soul and his home, I_ ** _demand_** _entrance and you_ ** _will_** _give it to me._ He grit his teeth against the clashing, dueling pain.  **_NOW TAKE ME TO MY MATE!_ **

Pain erupted violently inside of him and he fell sideways off the horse, yet he didn’t hit the ground, in fact, two arms reached out and grabbed him, straightening him onto his feet.

“ _Arthur_?” A choked, surprised, confused voice asked.

Opening his eyes, Arthur stared into Bors’ shocked face. “Where is he?”

Bors’ mouth opened and closed in utter dismay. “How did you—it is impos— _how_?”

“ _Bors!_ ” Arthur grabbed him by his shoulders. “ _Where._ _Is. He_?”

Apparently unable to speak, Bors merely motioned to a doorway passed which there was nothing but thick darkness.

Not even thinking twice, Arthur raced through it into the pitch black, unable to see anything around him but continued forwards rapidly. “MERLIN!” He yelled, his voice oddly muffled inside of the darkness. “MERLIN! IF YOU DIE I WILL **NEVER** FORGIVE YOU!”

A faint light, barely visible in the darkness, appeared up ahead, and while anyone else might think it a trap Arthur recognized that shade of gold. He pressed onwards, faster and faster, following that light, shifting directions when it did, until finally he seemed to step through black shadows and found himself inside of an underground cavern with beings of fiery light similar to the ones that Merlin conjured. They turned to look at him in shock but he did not care, did not notice, because there, unconscious and submerged up to his chin in a pit of utter black, was Merlin.

“ _Merlin_.” Arthur dodged the creatures that swiped at him and jumped into the blackness, surfacing and wiping the viscous liquid from his face, spitting out the bits that had gotten into his mouth, as he began to swim towards his mate. “Merlin!” He finally reached him, finding Merlin terribly cold to the touch. “Merlin, _Merlin_!” Arthur found floating surprisingly easy without even kicking, but he did not question this or what exactly they were inside of as he moved towards his mate and cupped his pallid face. “ _Merlin_ , I am here.” He pressed wet kisses to Merlin’s face, taking care to kiss the slices on his cheek (no doubt made by claws) which seemed to be almost completely healed. Whatever this black goo was, it seemed to be seeping into Merlin and healing him, at least physically, which meant that whatever was killing him, whatever he was fighting was magical, was attacking him deep within. “What happened to you, my love?”

The beings were no doubt talking to him, but their voices sounded like loud chimes, and he paid them no mind, instead wrapping his arms around Merlin’s neck and holding on close to him. 

“ _Beloved demon_ ,” Arthur whispered in Merlin’s ear before switch to whisper into the other “ _Cherished dragon_ ,” he shifted to press a kiss to Merlin’s lips, “ _My Mate_. _My Master. My Husband. I am here_. _”_ He pressed a longer kiss to Merlin’s lips. “I apologize for being so late, but you did not tell me where you were.” He dug his fingers through Merlin’s hair. “You keep making me have to track you down, my love.”

Those chimes were louder, clearly the beings were furious, but Arthur ignored them and concentrated on Merlin.

“ _You cannot leave me._ ” Arthur shifted to whisper into Merlin’s ears, as his words were for his mate alone. “ _You can never leave me. Not now that I know I can find you no matter where you are or how far you go. Even if you tire of me, Merlin, even if you wish to escape, I will never leave your side and I will never allow you to leave mine._ ” That was a clear threat, and he meant it with every fibre of his being. “ _Whatever is being done to you, whatever that curse is telling you, fight it, Merlin. As your Consort I_ ** _demand_** _it.”_

Merlin’s body twitched as a little groan escaped his lips.

The beings went absolutely silent.

Hope and happiness welled inside of Arthur as he felt the runes on him reacting. He curled his arms around Merlin’s neck and rubbed himself against his mate, using this new position to whisper more comfortably in his ear. “ _I have been without you for far too long, my love. I wanted to prove to you that I could be useful to you, could assist you, could be your helpmate, but I inadvertently tortured us both. Do you know how hard it was to be away from you? I kept telling myself it was only a few days but each day seemed like a year. I have never hated Fionn and Cadman as much as I did then, watching them be together while I was craving your touch so desperately yet stubbornly needing to prove to you that I could be more than just a hole for you - that you could trust and rely solely on me_.”

Merlin whimpered as his hand moved, slightly, brushing momentarily against Arthur’s hip.

The blonde groaned at the touch, no matter how brief. “ _But Merlin, while I want to be your partner, your helpmate, I have to confess to you that my intentions were not truly pure. I tortured us both out of my desperate need to have the changelings gone - not just for our safety - but because the dark moon is approaching and when the Lunacy finally descended on us I wanted_ ** _nothing_** _to disturb our week._ ” He felt so incredibly embarrassed to admit that, but it was true. “ _I needed you so badly during our separation, my love, my body ached for your form to find its place within mine, but I was selfish and I wanted - needed - your attention solely on me. I resented the Swain, the preparations for the rituals, the knight training,_ ** _everything_** _that kept us constantly apart when all I wanted was for you - in your true form - to take me ruthlessly, endlessly, without any distraction to take your attention from me.”_ He bit down on his bottom lip when he felt Merlin growing hard against him, proving that while he might not be conscious, a part of him could hear Arthur’s voice, his words. It encouraged the blonde as he continued to whisper into his mate’s ear. “ _I discovered a wicked secret I wanted to share with you but never got the chance to, My Mate._ ” The young prince distracted himself for a moment by flicking that earlobe with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth much like he wanted to with Merlin’s cock. “ _Wake up, my love, look me in the eyes, for I want to see your face when I tell you_.”

While Merlin did not open his eyes, he groaned loudly and shifted against Arthur. Clawed hands gripped Arthur by his hips, digging in and unintentionally destroying the material of his trousers, causing the shredded remains to slip down his hips and leave him bare in the darkness as that demonic cock pressed against him through the material of his own pants.

Shivers of need tickled their way down Arthur’s spine as he let go of his hold around Merlin’s neck, submerging a bit more into the gooey black yet he did not care, instead working blindly to free Merlin from his trousers, shoving the material down impatiently.

The chimes were back, a confused quality to them now.

Ignoring them as always, Arthur hooked an arm around Merlin’s neck and used it to pull himself up a little higher while reaching behind himself to grab that monstrous cock eagerly, aligning it to his entrance. He was not sure how this would work - Merlin had used blood the first time, and Arthur had been unconscious the second, so he wasn’t sure if Merlin had used blood again or if this cock had managed to breach him on its own, but he needed seed, and his mate needed to feed.

A groan escaped Arthur as that tapered tip pressed against his tight entrance, and even now he was amazed that something that humongous in size could not only breach his entrance but fit inside of his body. It sent shivers of pleasure from his core outwards as he shifted over the pulsating shaft, trying to fight it inside of his quivering, leaking entrance. His body was desperate for the penetration, begging for his mate, for the pain he’d inflicted on them both to be soothed by the exquisite burn of Merlin’s rough entry.

“ _Arthur…_ ” Merlin groaned into his hair sleepily.

The chimes were loud and rapid once more, but this time in shock and excitement instead of the confused anger from before.

The runes on both Arthur and Merlin were glowing brightly, so brightly that they were visible even through the impenetrable darkness surrounding them in this pit. Arthur pulled his hand free from the black waters (?) and wrapped it once more around Merlin’s neck as he shifted his hips, his body seated astride Merlin’s cock, trying to work its way down onto it. He arched his back and curled his hips while resting his weight harder and harder against that impossibly large tip that burned as it pressed up against his entrance, pushing against Arthur’s ring yet unable to breach the resisting tightness. His body ached for the cock pulsating between his thighs, which burned at his entrance and whose pointed tip was the only thing slipping through Arthur’s tight ring almost tauntingly.

Mewling in wanton need, Arthur leaned in to whisper into Merlin’s ear. “ _Master, my body is crying for you, can you feel its slick tears dripping down your shaft? Deep inside me is aching, it hurts, I am so empty without you. Do you not miss my hole? Master? Do you not miss the feeling of your warm, tight, welcoming home? Do you not need to fill my womb with your seed?”_

Merlin’s claws dug into his hips, drawing blood as they anchored Arthur in place.

Head thrown back, Arthur’s lips parted at the sweet pain as even in this cursed, half-awake, half-asleep state, Merlin’s body was assuring Arthur’s that it would not escape being shown its proper place. The prince shifted his grip around Merlin to dig his hands in Merlin’s hair, arching his back and urging Merlin’s lips to his nipple. “Suckle, my love. Fill my body with your cock and give me all your seed. I am yours to breed, my mate, suckle until you taste my milk on your tongue.”

The sound Merlin made was purely demonic as he began to thrust urgently against Arthur’s entrance, clearly needing to fill him. His humanity might be buried under this spell, but his demon seemed to have wrestled some control away and was now fighting Arthur’s entrance, whining and snarling when it was proving difficult.

Trailing one of his hands down his own body, Arthur groaned as he reached between his thighs to caress the thick, long, ridge-covered cock fighting his entrance. _Let it inside of me_ , he begged the magic within his body. _Mold me, shift me, change me however necessary to let my mate enter me easier, fill me completely_. He sobbed in need at the way the cock throbbed in his grip. _As his Consrt, his mate, his bitch to be bred, I_ ** _demand_** _it._ He was continuing to order the magic around, which might not be the smartest thing to do, but did not care, no longer furious and scared, just desperate and in need of his mate. _Please…_ ** _please_** _!_

Arthur’s body warmed almost uncomfortably from deep within, filling with electric tingles and slight discomfort. He did not know what the magic inside of him was doing, but when he felt his tight ring begin to give way and that cockhead slowly start to bury itself within him he did not care as long as it meant he had his mate buried to the hilt inside of him, exactly where he belonged. 

“ _More_ ,” he begged Merlin, begged the demon, begged the magic inside of them both. “Give me _more_!”

Suddenly the buoyancy of the darkness surrounding them gave way, and Arthur cried out as their bodies sunk rapidly under the black, giving him only a split second to take in a deep breath before he was completely submerged. Panic flittered through him as he tried to claw their way back up to the surface without any luck as their bodies continued lowering and lowering deeper and deeper into what seemed like an endless pit of darkness. The need for oxygen burned his lungs as he kept his breath held, yet it was all for naught as, with a vicious thrust, Merlin forced a third of his monstrous cock inside of him, and the feeling of those ridges be shoved up inside of him sent a jolt of pained pleasure through Arthur so intense he cried out, expelling any oxygen he had left in him. 

He could not see anything around them in the dark, not even Merlin, and his chest was burning without air as he drowned, and yet, when Merlin’s lips found his Arthur stopped trying to claw them back to the surface and instead wrapped his arms around his lover, kissing him desperately. Fingers digging deep into Merlin’s skin, Arthur groaned as he found himself completely overwhelmed by the taste of his mate, the dizzy disorientation taking over him no doubt the beginnings of drowning but he did not care. If this was how he had to go he could not think of a better way to go than wrapped in Merlin’s embrace.

The ridges inside of Arthur hardened and expanded, torturing his insides with their rough caresses. Merlin was thrusting the bit of his cock within Arthur urgently, twisting his hips, angling each thrust so those ridges twisted and scraped more and more against the aching tightness encircling them. Arthur gripped Merlin’s hair tighter and groaned throatily into his mouth as he felt the warmth growing inside of him as his body reacted to the forceful ministrations, quivering around that root inside of him and opening up further so Merlin could slide in to half-penetration.

Arthur had not realized he’d closed his eyes until they fluttered open at the feeling, and when he did he saw something inside of the darkness for the first time that had his heart racing in seconds. There were two glowing eyes staring at him in the pitch black. They were Merlin’s eyes, and yet they were _not_. The eyes opened and staring at him strikingly in the pitch darkness had the glowing pupils of a reptile.

Merlin’s dragon. His _dragon_! Even if only for a little, while trapped inside of this blackness, it was _there_.

The knowledge sent shudders of dark delight through Arthur’s body as he used his grip on Merlin’s hair to press a kiss to each eye, which closed seconds before his lips brushed against each eyelid. A rumble of pleasure escaped Merlin’s mouth that was not _heard_ per se, but which vibrated in the viscous black and caused ripples to crash into Arthur, revealing his mate’s pleasure to him. It filled him with pride unlike any he’d ever felt as he reached between their bodies once more, this time rubbing against his own naval, feeling the tell-tale bulge pressing outwards from within his stomach which betrayed his mate’s presence within him. How he’d missed this feeling! And yet it was not enough, he needed more, he needed the feel of Merlin’s hips pressed completely against his ass, the _true_ feeling of fullness!

Arthur tried to lift off of that cock so as to start lowering himself harder and harder on it, but Merlin’s claws dug deeper into his skin, clearly refusing to let Arthur free himself from thecock’s invasion. A guttural groan crept up Arthur’s throat and emerged from his lips soundless in dark delight at his mate’s actions, and a wicked smile curled his lips as he feigned another - more forceful - escape, purposefully provoking his mate and getting the punishment he’d so hoped for when Merlin not only shifted to latch onto his shoulder, fangs piercing through his skin, but he began to force Arthur ruthlessly down harder.

Throwing head head back once more, overwhelmed by the sensations, Arthur whimpered as he felt the slow, ruthless journey inside of him as Merlin’s cock forced the blonde’s body to open up before it was ready, those ridges extending even further as if to physically push the restrictive walls clenched around the cock tightly away slightly and facilitate the punishing invasion. He toes as he shifted his body in the glutinous black, wrapping his legs securely around Merlin and opening himself further to the invasion, feeling that monstrous rod slip in almost a full inch in one go - the shock of it caused him to scream mutedly into the black while Merlin groaned into Arthur’s shoulder.

Forgetting the fact that Merlin was healing from injuries, Arthur let go of his grip on his lover’s hair and dug his nails into Merlin’s back, clawing his way down that pale back, feeling blood rising to meet his fingertips as he did so. Merlin not only shivered, but his cock throbbed so hard it rocked Arthur’s body back and forth, causing Arthur’s painfully hard cock to rub up against Merlin’s chest in the process. Amazed and turned on, as always, by the way that cock could _physically_ move him, Arthur bit down hard onto Merlin’s shoulder, drawing blood and viscid black into his mouth as he once more clawed his way down Merlin’s back.

Merlin’s jaw clamped tight, steeling his fangs into Arthur’s shoulder as he sobbed and used his clawed-grip on Arthur’s hips to force the boy’s body down harder and harder, _harder and harder_ , while pressing up with his hips, fighting his way deeper inside of his mate. Arthur’s body was under merciless assault and tingling from the pleasure as it opened up under the forceful incursion. The ridges inside of him began to soften and shrink before expanding and hardening, over and over again, teasing and torturing his insides until they were agonized tickles that caused the walls around that cock to quiver. And then Merlin’s hands, which were shaking with the force with which he was using to force Arthur’s hips downwards onto his cock, tightened their grip painfully twice seconds before his monstrous cock took advantage of the quivering body around it and finally slipped passed the last bit of resistance, burying himself fully inside of its home.

Arthur sobbed, groaning and shifting his hips as Merlin filled him to the hilt. They shifted in the darkness, slowly turning head over heels, Arthur’s hips rocking from the throbs of pleasure pulsating from Merlin’s cock. The prince kneaded Merlin’s back with his hands before lowering them to grab handfuls of those asscheeks, pulling him harder against him, glorying in the complete fullness bulging from his stomach. As always it was a bit uncomfortable, but the pleasure greatly outweighed any discomfort. It was as if every inch of his insides contained thousands of nerve-ends that only activated when his mate was nestled deep inside of him, and drove Arthur crazy with toe-curling pleasure from just being filled. Merlin did not even have to move within him for Arthur to already start to feel his pleasure beginning to coil deep in his core.

And then those ridges returned to shifting their form, going from soft kisses to hardened, extended talons that scraped Arthur’s insides torturously as they tortured the body wrapped tightly around it. Arthur gasped, tightening his legs’ grip around Merlin’s waist, and pulled Merlin even tighter by his ass. His master was not even thrusting, and yet the both of them were groaning and growling into each other’s shoulders, their teeth digging into the skin deeper, as those ridges tortured them both. The boy’s insides began to throb uncontrollably under the restless assault, blood seeming to rush in his muscles, to soften the quivering mass gripped around that monstrous cock.

He’d never felt the ridges doing this before, but he loved it with abandon as they stimulated him at his deepest, leaving his breathless and needy and throbbing deliciously. It was as if they were massaging him from within, relaxing the muscles clenched around them, coaxing them into overwhelming oversensitivity.

Merlin’s words during their trip back to Mercia after having acquired the Dragonblade echoed suddenly in his mind: ‘ _Do you know why they do that, Arthur? They do it because the more stimulated you are, the more you open up, the more fully your body accepts mine, and thanks to that I can seed you at your most sacred depths… It does that, Arthur, because no matter how impossible it knows its desires are, it desperate wants to_ ** _breed_** _you._ ’

This time, when Arthur’s body rocked, it was with the force of his own shudders as he very quickly began to lose himself to his delirious arousal. Had he had his wits together he might have not only realized that he was no longer drowning, but that either he could somehow breathe in this viscous black, or didn’t need to. Had he been able to concentrate on anything but the feeling of those distracting, disorienting ridges, he might have noticed the way the glutinous black seemed to move around them, as if alive, suddenly turbulent like the sea during a hurricane, issuing waves that crashed into them with such strength they rocked Arthur’s body on top of Merlin’s. Had he not had his eyes closed in scrunched up pleasure he might have seen the way his body was glowing in the dark, so brightly, in fact, that Merlin’s cock was a visible, immense darkness backlit within.

Arthur noticed none of this, but he _did_ feel it when his back finally hit the floor of what had seemed like an endless pit of unseeable darkness. He’d expected a sharp cave floor or rough sand, yet the bottom of this pit was surprisingly soft and slightly slippery, and gave way somewhat as Merlin’s weight bared down on him from above, pinning him down and leaving him unable to move or escape, just how he liked to be bred by his mate.

This position had forced the blonde to let go of his hold of Merlin’s asscheeks and instead wrap his arms around Merlin’s body. His unhooked his legs enough to dig his heels into those asscheeks and urge those hips to begin to move. It was incredibly slow, Merlin growling contently into Arthur’s shoulder as he maintained that slow rhythm, sliding as far out as that monstrous cock would allow before forging his way back inside of Arthur, those ridges kissing every inch of Arthur from inside and making him bite down harder on Merlin in delirious response.

When Arthur had jumped into the pit of darkness with Merlin he had known it would end up with his mate’s cock inside of him, but he had expected their coupling to be frantic and desperate, to be all-consuming, but it was the complete opposite. Merlin’s thrusts were torturously slow, not due to lack of energy or life, but clearly out of a desire to fully enjoy every inch of movement inside of him. Merlin wasn’t feeding frantically from him, he was making sweet, sensuous love to him, that cock worshipping his inner depths and making Arthur feel sacred.

Arthur did not know _how_ he knew it, but when Merlin slipped his fangs free from Arthur’s shoulder and instead started nudging his nose against his cheek, clearly begging for his mouth, Arthur gave that mouth what it was begging for and _knew_ that Merlin was out of danger. Merlin’s kiss was like his thrusts, slow, sweet, sensuous and claiming. That tongue was rougher than usual, rasping teasingly as it danced with Arthur’s. The blonde wanted to cry at the realization of how close he had come to losing his beloved mate, how he might never have felt this utter adoration, devotion, showered on him ever again. The thought made him agonized, terrified, and furious.

Never before Merlin had Arthur ever felt such incredible need. The prince doubted the cambion realized just how much the blonde needed him, that much of what Arthur did was to selfishly, brattishly, make the cambion need _him_ just as fiercely in return. He doubted Merlin ever would realize it because the cambion was an idiot who had no self-value and seemed to be utterly lacking in the ability to realize his own worth. All the horrible things that had happened to Merlin had blinded him to how amazing he truly was, made him hate the most unique and beautiful parts of himself. Arthur hated that Tauren, Julius, and others had shaped Merlin this way, hated it with the passion of a million burning suns, but he would love Merlin more and more until hopefully, one day, the cambion would be able to love himself.

**_Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate._ **

Arthur’s eyes open in shock at the voice in his head. It was Merlin’s. _Merlin’s._ It was a little lower than usual, a little more growled - it was the cadence his voice took in in his true form. It wasn’t the demon. It wasn’t the dragon. It was _Merlin_.

**_Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate._ **

Merlin was chanting those four words over and over again desperately in his mind, and somehow, some way, Arthur was _finally_ getting a view into what Merlin was thinking. He had always resented Mordred’s ability to do so, and yet, as Arthur groaned into Merlin’s mouth, he knew for sure that Mordred had _never_ heard something like this directed towards _him_ whenever he had delved into Merlin’s mind.

**_Mine. All mine. Only mine. Completely mine. Always mine. Forever mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine._ **

A whimper of pain suddenly, inexplicably, escaped Merlin’s lips and was swallowed by Arthur. Merlin stopped moving, stopped kissing him, pressed his forehead against Arthur’s with a flinch of pain as his body immediately started to grow cold once more, as it had been when Arthur had first found him.

**_Why mine? I don’t deserve. He’s good. Smart. Strong. Capable. I am not good enough. Not strong enough. Not powerful enough. Not worthy. Not needed. Useless. Parasite. Burden. Failure. Holding him back. Keeping him from his destiny. Sucking life out of him… Deserves better._ **

Arthur shook his head immediately, horrified at those thoughts. Was this a part of what had been torturing Merlin? Was _this_ the reason why he’d been smiling so sadly at the blonde after stepping off of the dais? Arthur had thought it was Valiant’s coronation, that the event had reminded Merlin of Bayard’s death… but had _these malicious, hateful thoughts_ been torturing him the whole while?

**_Animal. Monster. Cursed. All who love you die. He will die. Cannot let him die. Let him go. Let him live._ **

Panic raced through Arthur’s body as he clung onto Merlin and pressed their foreheads harder together, hoping the fact that he was shaking his head against those thoughts would filter through to his lover.

**_True heir. Future King. Does not need you. Needs child. Needs heir. Not you. Never you.Knows cannot depend on you. You only take. Cannot give heir. Only death. Servitude. Make food. Deserves better. Let go. Let live. Let be happy. Love him. Leave him. Stay away. Never see again. It pains. It hurts. Don’t want to. Need him. Love him. But best for him. Must think of him. Must put him first. Must—-_**.

Snarling, Arthur surged forwards and closed his jaw around the pulse of Merlin’s neck threateningly. Should he truly bite down, should be put more pressure, the cambion would suffocate. It did not cross his mind that they were under water and not suffocating, and apparently it did not cross Merlin’s mind either because Merlin’s body froze, and his thoughts stopped in their awful, horrible tracks.

_I don’t care if he is cursed or suffering some sort of spell-based delirium_ , _how_ ** _dare_** _he even_ ** _think_** _of abandoning me?_ Arthur hissed to himself, not only shaken but furious, both with Merlin and with whoever had cursed these thoughts into his mind. _If he thinks I will let him leave me, if he is deluded into believing he can give me a kingdom, a pat on the head, and then send me off on my merry way while he disappears from my life… How many times do I have to tell him that I_ ** _will not_** _allow him to leave me? That_ ** _he_** _is_ ** _mine_** _? That_ ** _he_** _belongs to_ ** _me_** _?_ _Does he not believe me? Does he not understand how serious I have been when I have told him what will happen should he try to escape me again? Try to push me away? Try to take away what is_ ** _mine?_** Arthur growled ferociously and tightened his threatening grip on Merlin’s neck. _I will chain him, cage him,_ ** _kill_** _him before I allow that_. 

Merlin shivered suddenly above him, some warmth starting to return to his body as he gave a shallow thrust of his hips that rocked Arthur’s body.

Fighting the urge to whimper because he would have to let go of his threatening grip on Merlin’s neck, Arthur’s face scrunched up in pleasure as Merlin bottomed out inside of him. _If he is idiotic enough to truly believe I do not need him, that I would be happy ruling Camelot without him there he is truly more daft than I realized. If he gave me Camelot, if he gave me freedom, if he disappeared and left me ‘for my own good’, I would use my power over an entire country to send my every citizen throughout Albion to_ ** _hunt him down_** _…_ He writhed under Merlin when the cambion began to move inside of him once more, moving deeper, rougher. _Yessssss, so goooood, needed this so badly! I missed this! Too long—craved—suffered—needed! I need him so much—why won’t the idiot realize that?_ That body was warming up to his touch once more, and he nearly let go of Merlin’s neck in a groan when he felt that cock pulsating in desire.

**_Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate. Love mate. Need mate._ **

Merlin’s mind returned to chanting what Arthur wanted to hear, and he finally let go of his threatening hold on Merlin’s neck so he could rest his head back against the pit floor and fully enjoy his mate’s claiming thrusts. The cambion rolled his hips, those ridges scraping roughly inside of Arthur and causing sticky pleasure to start seeping from his slit.

**_Seed wife. Fill womb. Breed mate. Seed wife. Fill womb. Breed mate. Seed wife. Fill womb. Breed mate. Seed wife. Fill womb. Breed mate. Seed wife. Fill womb. Breed mate. Seed wife. Fill womb. Breed mate. Seed wife. Fill womb. Breed mate. Seed wife. Fill womb. Breed mate. Seed wife. Fill womb. Breed mate. Seed wife. Fill womb. Breed mate. Seed wife. Fill womb. Breed mate._ **

Despite the heavy weight pinning him down Arthur managed to arch his back at the newest chant echoing in Merlin’s mind, quickly deciding this one now surpassed the previous as his favorite insight into the cambion’s thoughts. _Yesssssssss_ … _Milk husband. Welcome seed. Be bred._

Merlin sobbed brokenly and started to thrust harder.

**_Seed wife. Fill womb. Breed mate._ **

_Milk husband. Welcome seed. Be bred._

**_Seed wife. Fill womb. Breed mate._ **

_Milk husband. Welcome seed. Be bred._

**_Seed wife. Fill womb. Breed mate._ **

_Milk husband. Welcome seed. Be bred._

Merlin’s mouth found Arthur’s as he slammed himself rougher and rougher, losing all control as he thrusted deep within and then those ridges expanded rapidly, sharply, hooking into Arthur as the cambion came in his deepest of depths. The feeling of the hooks sent jolts of pain through him, yet like always the pleasure was right behind it in overwhelming waves as Arthur came, sobbing in his mate’s mouth as his body spasmed around Merlin’s root, milking every last drop of his seed and ushering it where it belonged.

**_Love you. Love you. Love you. Love you. Love you. Love you._** Merlin kissed him adoringly, devotedly.

_Love you. Need you._ Arthur whimpered into that mouth and then groaned in unhappiness when the barbs unhooked themselves from him. _Noooo! Need—!_ But then he was moved quickly, their positions moved so rapidly he was disoriented when he found himself now positioned on Merlin’s lap, his back to Merlin’s chest seconds before Merlin forced him back down on his cock, impaling him in one violent shove that his whole body arching in response as that massive rod filled him.

Knees pressed into the floor on either side of Merlin’s hips, Arthur began to undulate his hips while lifting and lowering himself on that cock. Merlin tore the back of his shirt to pieces and began pressing sloppy, hungry, kisses to his skin, nibbling, sucking, no doubt leaving marks all over him. Despite being unable to see anything given how pitch black it was, Arthur closed his eyes to better concentrate on the multiple sensations leaving him a pleasured wreck. He brought his hands to his stomach, caressing the bulge there, pressing his open palms hard against it and rubbing up and down that impossible length and girth even as his hips moved it inside of him.

Merlin choked a sob into Arthur’s back and his clawed hands trailed up from Arthur’s hips to caress their way up his stomach. Arthur reached for those hands and guided it to where the tip of Merlin’s cock could be felt impossibly high, deep, inside of him. He plastered his hands over Merlin’s and together they marveled at the incredible fullness, both groaning in pleasure as the cock moved under their joined hands. The cambion urged Arthur to lean back completely against his chest, and once Arthur obliged, Merlin began to love up into him, using this new position to tease Arthur’s overly sensitive insides. Once more Merlin was making love to him, was worshipping him, both inside and out, and Arthur could only lean back and receive the devotion with encouraging groans and breathless need. He tilted his head to the side, baring his neck and whimpering when Merlin started scraping his teeth against his skin.

**_Going to breed my Arthur. Going to leave his stomach round my with seed. Going to suckle at his teat until I taste milk. Going to leave ever inch of him sore from my lips, my teeth, my cock._ **

Arthur mewled, desperate to turn around, to offer Merlin his chest so he could do just that. He was not the only one tortured by those thoughts, the cock inside of him throbbing so strongly it pulsated and bulged rougher against his stomach.

**_Sorry. Love you. Sorry. Love you._ **

Not sure whether Merlin was apologizing for his earlier thoughts and assuring Arthur he loved him, or apologizing _for_ loving him, Arthur turned his head and captured Merlin’s lips, swallowing his cambion’s wails when Arthur began to rock his hips back and forth, ever increasingly roughly, fucking himself on that cock not only effortlessly distracting Merlin but effectively leaving him completely unable to think.

When those barbs hooked into him Arthur yowled into his mate’s mouth, body jerking instinctively, unstoppably, in reaction until the hooks pierced deeper and held his lower body completely still as Merlin’s seed gushed inside of him so violently, so physically, Arthur couldactually _feel_ its pulsating journey up the monstrous shaft. Even after the last of the sticky warmth had filled him Arthur still found himself hooked, and yet the spiked which were dug within him kept alternating their grip. Some sucked and kissed softly, some expanded into the hard yet unsharpened form which stimulated as they scraped and kneaded the flesh around them, while some remained barbs which pierced Arthur deeply from within, holding him in place, unable to even try to escape their greedy, brutal ministrations. They alternated too fast, too unpredictably, to get accustomed to, and even while being held still on Merlin’s lap Arthur sobbed out in utterly wanton despair as the delicious torture began to build his own climax once more.

Merlin’s hands slipped from under his and made their way to Arthur’s nipples, beginning to squeeze, rub, and twist the nubs between the pads of his fingers, sending jolts of electric magic down Arthur’s body to his pierced core. Arthur groaned throatily into his mate’s mouth as those hands kneaded his chest, those fingers pinching and pulling at his nipples, extending them in a painful way that somehow only magnified the pleasure of the tortured happening inside of him.

Arthur’s climax hit him so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that he screamed into Merlin’s mouth as his body spasmed violently, and that scream turned into desperate whimpers when it milked more seed from his mate. 

Like always, the more seed within him, the more pleasure, the more heat, the more desperate need for it to never stop, so when those barbs finally unhooked Arthur shook his head violently and complained into Merlin’s mouth, only to cry out as Merlin began lifting him lowering him up and down his cock by his abused hips. The blonde spread his legs further and happily let his mate use him until, what seemed like hours later, exhaustion finally left him lax with sleep. The last thing Arthur felt, before he fell asleep with his cheek rested against Merlin’s heartbeat, was his lover still restlessly claiming him.

He pressed a sleepy kiss to Merlin’s heart, and then fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

 

* * *

 

Honestly, every time Bors decided he had the situation - the mate - figured out, the blonde did something impossible and completely messed with his head. The Dragon Lord was fearsome and powerful and, if trained once his dragon merged with his demon, would be a god among insects, and yet it was _Arthur_ who truly terrified Bors. Honestly, the boy was young,inexperienced, and definitely _not_ a magic user, only able to house and summon Excalibur due to his connection with Merlin, and yet _how_ did that explain all the things that had happened in the past - and had happened _today_?

Arthur had easily heard Bors. Arthur had _teleported_ himself here. Arthur had done so _without_ permission. Arthur had thrown himself into the darkness Bors himself did not dare enter, and not only hadn’t gotten lost, but had found Merlin _immediately_. Arthur had then _jumped_ into _that terrifying place_ with Merlin, had not seemed to feel any ounce of the fear and dread and warnings of danger that that pit emitted. Arthur had not reacted to the effects of the darkness pooled around him. Arthur had _reached_ through the curse _no one_ had been able to, and had gotten through to Merlin when everyone else had seemed to have given up and were merely waiting so that the Dragon Lord would not die alone. Arthur—Arthur had not only survived being dragged under the surface of that… that infernal pit… but survived having been submerged in it, without oxygen, _for hours_.

The fae had thought both Arthur and Merlin dead, and had been wailing and mourning, not only grieving the deaths but their inability to retrieve the bodies. And then the darkness of what could pass for water had rippled, had moved, and then parted as Merlin emerged with what they’d assumed was a dead Arthur, only to realize the Son of the Dragon (whose arms hung loosely around Merlin’s neck while the blonde still sat stride the Dragon Lord’s cock) was merely sleeping. They’d ushered the two, tar-covered individuals to the room they had had prepared for Merlin, had not been able to touch them due to that clinging blackness, and had been utterly shocked when the Dragon Lord had forgone the bath they urged him to take. Instead of ridding himself of the vile, viscous black which still covered his and Arthur’s bodies from head to toe, Merlin had lowered a still sleeping Arthur onto the bed with himself settled over the blonde before starting to move. The boy had groaned, had opened his sleepy eyes, and then had smiled up at Merlin, wrapped his arms around Merlin’s neck, and kissed him, seeming just as unaffected by that tar-like black as the Dragon Lord as he ignored the fae and urged his mate to move deeper, whispering orders for Merlin to give him more seed.

To be quite honest, the fae had become more than a little terrified of Arthur by that point and had left them alone in the room, only checking in every couple of hours to make sure that the two were still alive - and given the moans and groans and the near endless sound of the royal bedhead hitting the wall, Bors never had to ask for an update on their condition. It was _ridiculously_ long afterwards that the sounds stopped, and when they did, Bors finally peeked inside to find that the Dragon Lord had finally gone to sleep under his snoring mate, who, from his position under the sheets, seemed to _still_ be pierced by his lover’s cock. How they could sleep like that was beyond Bors, unable to understand how either could be comfortable enough to drift into slumber.Maybe they were just exhausted. 

To be quite honest, despite being a Dragonlord (and thus technically _should_ be able to posses some insight in the matter) this _whole_ thing was beyond Bors’ understanding. And it as _clearly_ beyond that of the fae, who obviously had no idea how to handle the situation they currently found themselves in.

“What _is_ he?” Daegal asked softly, shaken, from Bors’ side as he peered in on the sleeping lovers after having disappeared for a while with the ‘elders’ as he called them. He came to stand next to Bors, who had been silently watching over the two sleeping lovers ever since they had stopped their quite endless mating long enough to finally fall asleep to hopefullyrecover from their day. “Obviously we have been lied to. Obviously Arthur Pendragon is not Uther Pendragon’s true child. _Obviously_ —-.”

“No, he is Uther’s child, he is completely human,” Bors corrected immediately with a shake of his head in utter fascination at the pair. 

“No human could do _any_ of what he did today,” Daegal countered immediately. “No _human_ would be able to survive the mere _fumes_ that accursed place lets out! Much less—-he does not even seem to _notice_ that it has covered and hardened over him! We cannot _touch_ them because of that black covering them, and _we are magic_! How did he survive the dark? Being under it without oxygen for hours and then, leaving it on himself like this? _He cannot be human_!”

“But he _is_ ,” Bors assured the halfling with a raise of his eyebrow. “I have been trying to tell you and the fae this over and over already, but Arthur is not just a Consort, he’s…” Bors couldn’t think of a term, a word, which could truly apply to Arthur, which could even _begin_ to explain him or his relationship with every side of Merlin. He tried to, but knew it was lacking. “For lack of a better word, that boy is the Dragon Lord’s _true mate_. That boy is his soul. That boy completes him, compliments him, gives him all he is lacking and makes him closer to being whole.”

Daegal stared up at Bors before his gaze shifted towards the bed and he flinched very visibly in shock.

Bors followed his gaze to find that Arthur had awoken and was staring at them with sleepy, beady eyes. 

The blonde tried to move only to freeze, his back arching and pained pleasure scrunching his features. He lowered his head, eyes closing, seeming to be concentrating on something, and then a shiver of delight trailed down his body as he tried to move once again. Like before he seemed restrained, unable to slip free, until suddenly he could, as if anchors had been removed from him, and with a low groan of regret Arthur slipped his sleeping lover’s cock out of him and tumbled onto the bed next to him. Those blue eyes shifted to Merlin in obvious arousal, clearly tempted to regain his previous penetration, and Bors just couldn’t get it. He loved sex as much as the next person, probably more given just how long he’d had to go without, and yet those two had been at it for _hours on end_ , first in the pit of darkness, and then afterwards in the bed. How in the _world_ was Arthur not crying out in pain? How could he move this easily? How was it _possible_ that he not only seemed to have suffered no ill effects from the coupling, but looked resentful that he’d had to slip Merlin’s cock out of him, and clearly blamed _them_ for the fact that he was unable to start loving up and down on his mate the second he’d awoken - as he very visibly wished he could.

It took obvious self-will for Arthur to instead slip out of bed and wrap the top sheet high up on his waist, and it was only then that Bors realized just how extended that usually flat, muscled stomach was. It protruded unnaturally for a man, much more closely resembling a woman very far along her pregnancy. Confusion filled Bors since he had seen Arthur for a split second before the blonde had rushed into the darkness. How had Arthur become miraculously potbellied during their brief time apart? It could not truly be fat, the rest of him was as lean and sinewy as usual. So what could be the cause of—-?

Bors flushed immediately as the answer hit him square in the face despite how shocking it was. It would appear that the Dragon Lord had not only copulated with his mate continuously for hours without stopping, but had spilled his seed solely inside of his mate, and it was _that seed_ which bulged outwards from within the Son of the Dragon.

Was the seed within him - was _that_ the reason for the odd energy Bors could feel emanating from Arthur? It was unlike anything he’d felt before, it was completely different to what Arthur had felt like - smelt like - before. There was something off about him, about the way that be moved, the scent and aura seeping from his pores, but Bors could not quite put his finger on exactly _what_ it was that was so incredibly different - other than the belly bulging with seed, of course.

“Bors, Daegal,” Arthur acknowledged with a blank expression as he moved towards them, not seeming to even realize just how covered in black he was, that the only parts of him not entirely caked in the dried abomination were his blue eyes and bits of his blonde hair. “What do you want?” The question was asked with no emotion whatsoever, but there was clear menace in those blue eyes as he drew nearer.

Daegal glanced up at Bors before he squared his shoulders, took in a deep breath, and turned to Arthur. “Prince Arthur, it is our right to protect the Prin— _Merlin_ —and while you will no doubt not be happy with us, we were following orders, and—.” He looked down at his feet, seeming unable to look Arthur in the eyes, before he groaned in self-annoyance and raised his gaze back up to the silent prince. “How were you able to enter this place without express permission? How were you—?”

“Daegal,” Arthur interrupted in that same tone as before. “I understand that you were following orders, but clarify something to me: are you speaking on behalf of whatever those things? The fae? Did they send you here?”

Gulping, Daegal nodded very rapidly, clearly incredibly nervous to be facing Arthur right now, especially given all the questions the blonde’s mere presence in this place brought. “Y-yes. The elders, the pureblooded, wanted me to—.”

“Good. Then I am going to give you a message for your pureblooded elders.” Arthur moved in seconds, grabbing Daegal in breath-taking swiftness, lifting the druid up with one hand into the air by the front of his shirt. 

While Daegal _was_ petite, this power, this strength, was absolutely shocking, especially for a human, to be displaying. Arthur brought Daegal closer, not seeming to notice the way the druid struggled and covered his nose to try and filter the toxic scent of the black coating the prince. It was a scent that was not toxic per se to Bors given what he was, but it would most definitely affect him as well. In this dry form it should be less dangerous though, and yet even despite this Bors took a step back and away from them both. 

“The only reason you are alive right now, Daegal, is because Merlin is fond of you, but even then you are only _barely_ managing to remain so,” Arthur explained to the druid in an incredibly tranquil voice, which somehow made him seem ten times scarier. “Had you taken me along with you when you took Merlin, had you not left me behind, had you not tried to deny me entrance, access to my own mate while he was dying, I would not have been this displeased with you and your masters, but you did, and I will not forgive that. Merlin could have died today, and I would not have been able to be besides him because of you and those creatures who claim to want to protect him. Know this, you are firmly rooted in my bad books, you are someone I now view with utter distrust, and you are _this close_ to being a subject of contention between my mate and I. If you do _anything_ else that displeases me, even if in the name of your elders, your pureblooded, _I will cut you down_.”

Daegal’s eyes were wide in absolute terror as he stared at Arthur.

Bors did not blame him. Despite being the only non-magical being in the room, Arthur was proving himself the most terrifying more and more. The fact that he was saying this without a hint of anger in his face or voice, that he was merely stating _facts_ , somehow made it even scarier than had he promised it in anger.

“I told the Swain this once, and I do not know how serious they took me, but know that I am even more serious now than I was when I relayed this information to them - and I was _deadly_ serious when I did so with them.” Arthur’s grip tightened so much on the front of Daegal’s shirt that the druid was shivering from it as Arthur pulled him in a little closer, forcing Daegal to cover his own nose harder. Like before, Arthur did not seem to notice, or perhaps did not mind, most probably the latter. “If I _ever_ begin to even _remotely_ suspect that you or your masters are anysort of true threat to my relationship with Merlin…” Arthur smiled sweetly at Daegal. It was a thing of nightmares. “…I will slaughter each and every one of you slowly, painfully, and I will raze this whole damned place to the ground.”

Daegal was shivering, his eyes wide in horror.

“I do not understand why you feel he is yours to protect however you see fit, but know this, Merlin is _mine_ ,” Arthur declared slowly, as if talking to one simple of mind and slow of understanding. “I will _not_ abide anyone who thinks otherwise, who delude themselves believing they have some sort of claim on him, so you and your elders better start accepting my place in his life and his in mine.” He leaned his face in closer, voice a snarl. “But even _then_ I do not promise I will _not_ kill you.”

Daegal was close to trying in terror.

Bors found it hard to breath.

Arthur’s eyes, _his eyes,_ were bleeding demonic black from the pupils outwards, and a hint of draconic scales could be seen under the skin of his cheekbones. _This_ was what was causing his change in energy, in scent! Whatever had happened under that darkest of black, it had done something to Arthur, shifted him, changed him. His eyes were black like a demon’s yet with a blue outline of reptilian pupils, and all around his body were hints of scales similar to a Dragonlord. Then there was the inhuman strength to consider as well.

Just _what the hell_ had being the Dragon Lord’s mate _made_ the Son of the Dragon? Ever since he’d awoken he’d been acting oddly, not unlike himself in that Bors had always known Arthur hid a dark side to him, he just had never seen it so openly displayed before. Whatever had happened to him, that had changed him to this new form, seemed to have tapped into that dark part of him and brought it much more readily to the forefront, seemed almost as if it was fed by it.

Honestly getting worried for Daegal, Bors cleared his throat, drawing Arthur’s attention onto him. “Arthur, I understand that you are angered, but right now **he** is not the one you should be venting your fury on. There is a very serious problem on our hands concerning your mate. The spell may be dormant again, but it has not been broken, and not only that, but our connection was severed before I could reveal to you the worse of my news.”

Letting go of Daegal and allowing him to fall to his feet, Arthur narrowed his eyes as he turned to Bors, looking more like the Arthur he knew and less like the vicious beast threatening Daegal and the fae with a smile. “What is it, Bors?”

Despite having brought up the subject himself, Bors hesitated a second. “Do you think the Mercian army is worried or - unnerved - by your disappearance?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow in dark amusement. “Merlin made them think he was off on some side mission, so they probably merely assumed he called me to him. I doubt they are worrying about our not returning.” His smile faltered. “So why do you not explain to me, Bors, _why_ you said that Merlin could not fight in the battle?” He stood straighter. “What have you discovered? What is it that you are so worried about?”

Sharing a nervous look with Daegal, Bors sighed as he turned his attention back on Arthur. “The fae have discovered the true identity of Camelot’s sorcerer.”

“It is an Osgar heir,” Arthur huffed, clearly annoyed at being told what he already knew. “Just because—.”

“It is not just _any_ Osgar heir,” Bors interrupted, knowing if the prince had been terrifying _before_ he would only get more chilling once he found out. “Arthur, the sorcerer working with Camelot is _Tauren_.” 


End file.
